


Not waving but drowning

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: Coming up for air [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Athos is a bit of a dick, Constance is everyone's friend but someone needs to make love to her soon, F/M, Gen, M/M, Milady is not evil, relationships are fluid in this one, series will eventually be slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas needs to be replaced on the team. Athos bitterly resents anyone who tries. And he really, really hates his ex-wife who's the reason Thomas has to be replaced, but who hasn't had the decency to resign.</p><p>Inspired by but in no way related to the wonderful <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1837783">Une histoire de bleu</a> by ceeturnalia which you should all read immediately because it's amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Une histoire de bleu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837783) by [ceeturnalia (traveller)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traveller/pseuds/ceeturnalia). 



> References to past rape/non con, and there is a violent scene which isn't that graphic. Athos is a real prat throughout most of this. The next story moves the relationships on to eventual Athos/d'Artagnan, but how they get there, I haven't decided :)
> 
> You'll hate this if you like your Milady irredeemable and vile. She isn't in this one.
> 
> I never expected this to get this long! The eventual slash might take a while to get there, so enjoy the angst and thrashing around until then.

“I need a decision on those résumés by this afternoon, Athos.”

“And I already told you, Jean. I don’t care. I read them, they all seem fine, pick who you like.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to replace Thomas—”

Athos inhaled, pulled his temper inside. “Do not.”

“Then why don’t you pay more attention?”

“Because I trust your judgement, it’s your decision, and I don’t care. Pick the prettiest for all I care.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the best there is, or I’d sack you in a minute flat.”

Athos rolled his eyes, going to the mirror to check that his holster wasn’t ruining the line of his suit. That always annoyed queen. “It’s a good thing we both know that you don’t do that, or you already would have.”

Constance came through on his earpiece. “We're good to go, Athos.”

“I have to go, Jean.” Athos pressed the call end button and turned his ringer to silent. “Milady?”

“Already waiting for you.”

Of course she was. Any chance to prove she was better at this than he was.

He went out into the hallway. Milady stood outside the de Bourbon suite. She knocked. “Constance?”

A few seconds later, Queen and Constance emerged. Their protectee, dressed in a full-length pale blue gown with her blonde hair piled on top of her head, was complemented by her personal assistant in pale green, her auburn hair in an elegant chignon. Queen smiled. “Good evening, Anne, Athos. Ready for this?”

“Of course,” Milady said. Athos let her do the charm thing, and go ahead. He took up the rear. Constance turned and gave him a little wave. He bowed his head a little but kept moving.

Downstairs, Porthos waited by the limo. Athos went ahead, scanning the guests going in and out, looking for loiterers. When he was satisfied, Porthos opened the passenger door, and Milady brought Queen out, walking quickly with Constance behind them. Once the three women were seated, Athos joined them, and young Brujon drove off the second Porthos closed the front passenger door.

Athos kept his gaze firmly out the left side window, Milady out the right. This wasn’t, however it appeared, because they loathed each other’s guts, which they did, but to watch for potential kidnappers or attackers. With a man down, they couldn’t easily have a following vehicle, so this was the best alternative that didn’t rely on less experienced personnel. Treville was desperate to recruit a replacement for Thomas, but his previous efforts had ended badly. Athos didn’t care any more. While he was around, he didn’t need another member of their team to do his job whatever Treville thought, and if Treville wanted it another way, he should let Athos leave.

The drive from hotel to the convention centre was all of five minutes. Brujon brought the limo around the back, and again Athos and Porthos did a scan. “All clear,” Athos announced.

An assistant came to meet the evening’s very special guest, and led them all to the green room. It wasn’t as lavish as some, but champagne had been laid on with hors d'oeuvres, and both pairs of doors were lockable from inside, giving Queen privacy before her speech. Athos and Milady stayed on their feet near the doors, while Constance listened to Queen talking quietly. It was a routine Athos had done several hundred times, though as he reminded himself, their protectees had to be careful each and every time, but an attacker only had to get lucky once. Complacency wasn’t an option.

“Five minutes,” Porthos told him.

Athos checked his watch. “Five minutes, _madame_ ,” he relayed to Queen. She smiled at him, and though she literally smiled at dozens of people all day every day, she managed to make it feel like her smile was for him alone. She _was_ very good at her job.

With thirty seconds to go, Athos straightened, unholstered his pistol, and unlocked the door out of the room. When the knock came, he answered, and checked the assistant was alone. She was, so he jerked his head at Milady. “Madame?” Milady said.

Queen rose, and Milady walked at her side through the door up to the stage where she would stand throughout the speech. Athos hovered behind the curtains where he had a clear line of sight for her. Porthos watched the audience.

The MC introduced Queen and the audience applauded as she walked to the podium. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Anne de Bourbon. The de Bourbon Charitable Foundation thanks you for coming tonight.”

**********************

When it was over, and their client and Constance were back safe in their suite, Porthos took up position outside their door. Aramis would take over in four hours. No one wanted Aramis on Queen duty, which was another reason for needing a replacement team member, but Treville had vetoed the idea of Athos coming back on duty that night since he’d been on since that morning, escorting Queen around London with Milady, so Aramis it was. It was _unlikely_ Aramis would violate the trust placed in him again, but not _impossible_ since human beings were what they were. On the other hand, if Aramis did sleep with Queen again, maybe Treville would let Athos resign for good this time, and Athos could be done with this life as he’d wanted to be for over a year now.

Now Athos was off-duty, he was allowed to drink, and drink he would. He undressed, opened the bottle of single malt he travelled with for these purposes, poured himself four fingers of scotch into a glass, and tried not to think of the woman on the other side of the wall, whom once he’d loved and who had since dispatched him to his own private hell on earth.

**********************

They flew back to Paris in time for lunch. Milady, Porthos and Brujon went with Queen and Constance to the house, while Aramis and Athos continued onto the company headquarters for the meeting with Treville and his selection for their new team member. Athos was hungover, though he was practised at hiding it from everyone but Aramis, and Aramis was practised at pretending he hadn’t noticed.

“Do you know who he chose?”

Athos grunted as his own reply.

“Aren’t you a little curious?”

Athos glared.

“We do need—”

“Aramis, shut up.”

“As you wish.” Aramis sighed. “How is Thomas?”

“I have no idea and less interest and what did I just say?”

Aramis shook his head, but kept blessedly silent until they arrived at HQ. Athos stomped over to the lifts and punched the number for the floor, then stared at the floor until the lift arrived.

Treville kept them waiting for a couple of minutes, so Aramis flirted automatically with Marguerite, while Athos cursed the universe for being, his friend for toying with a lonely woman’s affections just to pass the time, and Treville for dragging him down here, even if Athos was his lieutenant and the decision on the hire directly concerned him.

Treville’s office door opened. “Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen. Please, come in.”

Athos let Aramis go in first, then he followed, leaning on the doorframe. “Athos, this is Charles d’Artagnan. Charles, Athos de la Fére, our security team captain, and Aramis d’Herblay, second in command.”

An extremely good-looking _teenager_ stood to greet them. He held out his hand and Aramis took it. Athos ignored the gesture. “You picked _him_? Were the primary schools all out of recruits?”

Treville smiled tightly, then gestured to Athos to follow him out of the room, closing the door rather firmly behind him. “Care to explain that rudeness?”

“Is he even eighteen, Jean? I thought you were recruiting from the military.”

“He’s _twenty-eight_ , you idiot. A qualified pilot with a Masters degree and service in Iraq and Libya and an unblemished, impressive record. He’s the same age you were when I recruited you. So go in there, apologise, and shake his bloody hand. Just because you got drunk last night, is no excuse to treat him like shit.”

Out of he corner of his eye, Athos saw Marguerite listening avidly, and while he hated all of this intensely, he hated arguing in front of the staff. He nodded, and went back into the office. “My apologies. I’m out of sorts this afternoon. Nice to meet you, d’Artagnan.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Treville rolled his eyes, but was apparently satisfied. “Athos, d’Artagnan has just completed a security officer course, but this will be his first civilian post since leaving the air force. So I’ll leave it to you to see he is properly briefed about our protectees, and what the job entails. D’Artagnan, you’ll be on probation for six months.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Fine. Athos, he’ll stay at the residence, of course. D’Artagnan, you can rent somewhere for your privacy on your days off but the others find it’s more expense than it’s worth. There are generous staff accommodations at the residence and of course, it’s rent free.”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “Suits me, sir. No point in throwing away rent for no reason.”

“Then, if you have no more questions? Athos, please take him back today, make introductions, and he can be a ride along for a week. I’ll leave it to you when you want to put him on duty proper.”

“Yes, sir,” Athos said. Treville raised an eyebrow at the unusual formality, but said nothing more.

“With me,” Athos said to d’Artagnan. “Aramis, are you coming?”

“Of course.”

Aramis trailed behind them, which forced Athos to be the one to request a taxi and be polite to the smiling young man who, no matter how old he really was, looked barely old enough to shave.

As they rode to the residence, Athos began the briefing. “One thing you’ll do while you’re observing, Charles, is be measured for three bespoke suits. The de Bourbons have very high sartorial standards. One of your predecessors lost his job for being poorly groomed one too many times, and being overfamiliar with Madame de Bourbon. Is that clear?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Did Treville talk about the codes? They’re very simple. Louis de Bourbon is ‘King’, Madame is ‘Queen’. Armand du Plessis, the executive director for the board, is ‘Richelieu’. We all use our own names, except for Anne de la Chapelle, who, to avoid confusion, is called ‘Milady’ to distinguish her from Anne de Bourbon.”

“I prefer to be called ‘d’Artagnan’, sir.”

“Whatever.” Aramis gave him a look, but Athos didn’t apologise. “You will demonstrate weapons proficiency with our chosen armoury, and Porthos will run you through our communications and transport procedures. Any questions?”

D’Artagnan tilted his chin, his mouth set. “Yes. What’s your problem with me?”

Athos looked away. “Nothing. I have given you no thought whatsoever, and will continue to do so whenever possible. Here we are. Aramis, make sure he has the relevant access pass, and then take d’Artagnan to his new quarters. I’ll arrange introductions when I’ve have had a chance to let our employers know they’re needed.”

The taxi pulled up and Athos let Aramis and d’Artagnan go before him. “Better feed him too,” he added, before walking away.

 _Shit_.

**********************

“Well, that was pleasant,” d’Artagnan said, watching Athos stalk away in apparent fury.

“My apologies for that,” Aramis said, wondering how to explain Athos and his issues to their charming newcomer. “Let me show your cabin. It’s very nice.”

Each senior staff member—which included every member of the inner security team—had their own cabin in the grounds, around a pool exclusively for their use. D’Artagnan whistled. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Madame saw to it herself. Their housekeepers live in the main building for convenience, but that’s mine and Porthos’s, then Athos—”

“Wait, you share?”

“With my lover, Porthos, yes. Is that a problem? Staff are allowed to have their partners with them, although we’re the only ones who do.”

“Cool. So Athos is single? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Aramis sat down on d’Artagnan’s new sofa. “Actually, Milady is his ex-wife, and if you’re looking for an explanation for his foul temper, that’s as good a place as any to start.”

D’Artagnan sat next to him. “Go on.”

“They were a couple—a happy couple—for three years. At that point, Athos and Milady lived off-residence. His younger brother, Thomas, had worked with us since before they were married. So this is all four, nearly five years ago. Milady is Queen’s bodyguard, and Athos primarily worked for King. Thomas was also Queen’s bodyguard, although the rest of us switched around. At that point we all shifted around, except Milady.”

“I don’t—”

Aramis held his hand up. “Hang on. Anyway, Treville tried to arrange things so Milady and Athos had time off at the same time when possible, but since Milady had to cover Queen, they didn’t always synch up. Sixteen months ago, Athos got a call from the police to say Thomas had been severely injured in a car accident outside Athos and Milady’s house. His brother was in a coma for three weeks, and spent months in a care home. Man’s permanently disabled now, living with his parents. Louis de Bourbon set up a trust fund for him. So we’ve had a vacancy on the team since then.”

“Okay but...what the hell has that to do with me and Athos?”

“It’s not personal. It’s just...Thomas wasn’t just visiting Athos’s house. He was visiting Athos’s _wife_.”

D’Artagnan’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Worse, the reason a car hit him is that even though he and Milady had been having occasional dalliances, on his last visit he was drunk and behaving like a boor, so Milady threw him out. Bodily. He was so angry he apparently walked straight out into the road without looking. The divorce was finalised ten months ago.”

“Holy _shit_.” D’Artagnan had kept his voice to a horrified whisper. “So any replacement is a physical reminder of his wife’s infidelity?”

“No, his _wife_ is that. I honestly don’t know which upset Athos more—Milady cheating on him, or Thomas’s betrayal. He wanted to resign, of course. Milady refused to leave since she had done nothing which affected her job, at least in her eyes. But Treville begged him to stay, appealing to his sense of duty, and making him feel guilty over the team falling apart. So Athos stayed on and...he’s been like this ever since. Honestly, Treville did him no favours, however glad we, as his closest friends, are to have him around.”

“So I’m kind of screwed whatever I do. How many ‘replacements’ have you been through?”

“Three. All of them performed poorly in the field, however promising they seemed on paper. So apart from everything else, Athos isn’t expecting you to be around for long.”

“Right. How flattering.”

“I’m sorry, d’Artagnan. Your CV is impressive. Athos will, believe it or not, treat you fairly if not particularly affectionately. But don’t expect to be his friend, or for him to go easy on him because you’re new.”

“I don’t expect that. But I feel I’ve been recruited under false pretences.”

“I understand. If you want to back out, then do it now before we invest any time in you.”

D’Artagnan stood. “Right. Maybe give me until I’ve had lunch to think about it.”

“Of course. You can cook here of course, supposing you stay, but we usually eat up at the main residence. Lunch is up there, so come with me. You may as well see what the facilities are like.”

**********************

To be honest, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Aramis was a cutie and being so nice, d’Artagnan would have walked out, called a taxi and buggered off back to his mum in Lupiac. He was used to being respected for his abilities, even if he’d had to prove himself worthy of respect. This was the first time since the age of ten he’d been treated with such disdain for simply existing.

He was still seething when Aramis took him into the mansion’s kitchens. He stopped short. “Wow? And perhaps an additional ‘Holy fuck’?” This was on the scale of a military base’s mess.

Aramis grinned. “Yes, it takes people like that. They’re feeding a lot of staff and they like to eat well. Serge?”

An older man in impeccable chef whites popped from where he was bent behind a steel counter. “Aramis? Good afternoon.”

“Serge, our latest recruit, Charles d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan, this is Serge Aznar, the de Bourbon’s chef.”

“Nice to meet you, _monsieur le chef_ ,” d’Artagnan said, holding out his hand.

“And you, young man. ‘D’Artagnan’, that’s a Gascon name, yes?”

“Yes, it is,” d’Artagnan said with surprise.

“My family comes from near Tarbes. I must cook some _crépinettes_ in your honour.”

“That would be lovely,” d’Artagnan said, feeling welcome for the first time since leaving Treville’s office.

“We’re looking for some lunch, Serge. Anything left?”

Serge snorted in amusement. “You know there is, Aramis. Hot, cold?”

“Cold is fine.”

“Then you know where it lives, my friend.”

Aramis led them over to an enormous fridge. “Take your pick,” he said to d’Artagnan, opening the door.

D’Artagnan was lost for words as he regarded the enormous selection. “Uh. Quiche and salad?”

Aramis took over and assembled a meal. Eating eased a little of d’Artagnan’s anger, though he still wasn’t sure staying was a good idea. The team dynamics were pretty fucked up after all, with Athos working with his ex-wife and resenting anyone who replaced his brother.

“Do you like your job?” he asked Aramis when they cleaned up their meal plates. “Tell me the truth.”

“What’s not to like? Working with my best friend and my lover, swanning around the rich and famous all over the world? It’s better than the army. Why did you leave the air force?”

D’Artagnan hung his head. “My mother. Dad died last year in a light airplane crash—we’re all aviation mad in my family—and she developed this phobia that I was going to die the same way. Nothing could ease it, so I decided to look for something else.”

“And this something else involved frequent plane travel.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “Yeah, I know. But at least no one’s shooting at me.”

“Not in the air, at least. Not yet.”

“Popular targets, are they?”

“You know, wealthy one-percenters in a fantastically inequitable world. The ones I don’t get are those who hate Anne. Madame de Bourbon, I mean. She literally spends all her days giving away money to the less fortunate. Why hate her? But she gets more threats than _Monsieur_ , and more actual attacks. Some of them are obsessed stalkers, but there’s a lot of real hate for her just as a rich woman who speaks out on politically sensitive issues.”

“Thank God she doesn’t live in America then.”

Aramis actually shuddered. “Yes, indeed. I couldn’t bear that.”

D’Artagnan looked at him closely. “ _You_ couldn't bear it? Why you, particularly?”

Aramis’s guileless expression was quite convincing. “I’ve worked for Madame for many years. I’m very fond of her. I admire her work. Why would I want her to be hurt?”

“Right.” D’Artagnan couldn’t help feeling Aramis wasn’t telling him everything, but then again, maybe d’Artagnan wasn’t entitled to the whole story. “Listen, be straight with me. Should I stay? Because I could live without the aggravation if I’m set up to fail from the start.”

Aramis stroked his moustache. “If you can cope with people shooting at you, Athos being a bit of a bitch to you from time to time will be a breeze. Just remember, it’s not you. It’s him. Him and his Mont Blanc-sized issues.”

“Okay. Then I’ll give it a go. Isn’t he supposed to be arranging introductions.”

Aramis held up a finger. “Lesson one, d’Artagnan. We move to _their_ schedule and pleasure. If Monsieur and Madame aren’t ready, we wait. And wait. Milady will be around as will Porthos, but who knows what they’ve been asked to do. So get used to cooling your jets and being preternaturally patient, or this job is _not_ for you.”

“Understood. So what do we do while we’re waiting? What do you do?”

“Play a lot of cards, read, watch TV. Practice on the private gun range. Use the gym, go for a swim. Go for suit fittings, in your case. Let Madame’s personal beautician give you a manicure—both the de Bourbons loathe poor grooming. Don’t chew gum, smoke, take drugs, or drink on duty. Learn the right knives and forks and plates and glasses to use, how to spot when one of them needs rescuing from a bore, or a clean handkerchief or has a headache and needs to leave discreetly. Have you done an advanced driving course?”

“Yes, as part of the security officer training.”

“That’s one thing done then. Read, d’Artagnan. On current events, popular culture, the serious books in vogue. If you have no interest, learn to fake it, at least around King. Queen will know if you’re faking it so don’t insult her intelligence by pretending.”

“You make it sound more like training to be a male escort, not a bodyguard.”

Aramis grinned. “Except for the sex, at times that’s what we are. Only with guns and radios and exceptional martial arts skills. Speaking of which, once Porthos is free, Athos will put you through your paces with him at the gym.”

“Because he’ll want to assess me?”

Aramis’s grin widened. “No, it’s because Athos is a fucking sadistic sod with a grudge against you for not being his brother. But he’ll _say_ it’s to assess you.”

This, at least, d’Artagnan was familiar with. He’d had enough senior officers who’d behaved just the same and he was confident in his abilities as a fighter. Unless this Porthos was twice his size or something.

“Hey, Aramis, who’s this?”

D’Artagnan turned and saw a handsome, very tall black guy in a smart grey suit approaching. When the guy kissed Aramis on the cheek, d’Artagnan’s heart sank. _This_ was Porthos. “D’Artagnan, meet Porthos du Vallon. Porthos, Charles d’Artagnan. Athos’s latest chew toy.”

Porthos held a big hand. “My condolences,” he said with a grin. “Been a shit to you already, has he?”

“Just a bit.”

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as a rite of passage. You guys eaten?”

When they told him they had, Porthos wandered off to make a filled baguette for himself. “You want _me_ to fight _him_ ,” d’Artagnan whispered to Aramis. “He’s huge.”

“Isn’t he? I’m so lucky,” Aramis said with a exaggerated sigh. “Oh, you mean his physique. Well, we’ve had people just as big attack the de Bourbons, so it’s about time we found out if you can handle it.”

“I’d rather just shoot them.”

“The police would rather you didn’t, as would our protectees. Makes for bad press, you see. Are you scared, little Charles?” Aramis crooned, putting an arm around his shoulders.

D’Artagnan shrugged it off. “Fuck off.”

“Nice,” Porthos said, walking back. “You’re cranky with Aramis already? Usually it takes at least a full day.”

“I’ve always been a fast learner.”

“Speaking of which, either of you seen Milady? She disappeared after we got back to the residence.”

“Having a nap, perhaps? Beauty treatment? Trading insults with Athos?”

Porthos winced. “Ah, don’t. They were bad enough on the plane.”

“Why does she stay?” D’Artagnan asked. “If he’s so unpleasant to her?”

“There’s your answer,” Aramis said. “She doesn’t feel it’s up to him to drive her away when she earned this position fair and square. Which is perfectly reasonable until you remember she was sleeping with his brother before the accident.”

“Yeah, sleeping with the wrong people is definitely a way to fuck up on this job,” Porthos said, looking intently at Aramis. Aramis held his gaze for a couple of seconds, then looked away.

 _Curious_ , d’Artagnan thought.

Aramis touched his ear. “D’Artagnan, you’re on. I’m to take you to meet Monsieur and Madame. You can have five minutes to clear up. Bathroom, through there, and make sure there’s nothing caught in your teeth.”


	2. Chapter 2

Athos looked at the carpet while he waited for Aramis to bring their newest recruit to the sitting room. It would have been braver to return Anne’s stare, but he was sick of the power games. If she wanted to stay in the job, fine. But he was buggered if he would accept the smallest blame for ending their marriage, or putting an impossible strain on their once tightly-knit team. He didn’t even know what would satisfy her anger. Did she expect him to absolve her of any recriminations? God forbid, declare emotions for her he no longer felt?

So in the absence of an answer to that question or a witty reply to her unspoken accusations, he did a lot of staring at the floor when she was around and they were off-duty. He knew she knew that he’d been bested. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about _anything_ any more.

He heard footsteps so could at last dare to look up, and saw Aramis and d’Artagnan approaching. He climbed to his feet. “Everything satisfactory, d’Artagnan?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy looked him in the eye, a glint of resentment there already. _Oh, perfect._

“D’Artagnan, milady. Milady, d’Artagnan. This way.” He sensed rather than saw Anne’s curled lip as she got to her feet, but didn’t bother to check if she was following them. He knocked on the sitting room door, then opened it.

“So this is our new bodyguard!” Louis bonded over like a hyperactive spaniel which, in many respects, he was. “Welcome to our home, Charles! I’m Louis de Bourbon, and this is my lovely wife, Anne.” Anne gave him a lovely smile, but then when had she ever not done that to anyone? It was her job, after all.

D’Artagnan bowed his head gracefully. “ _Monsieur, madame_ , I’m honoured to work for you.”

“Come and sit down, Charles. Do you like tea?”

“Yes, _monsieur_ , I do.”

“Constance, do pour him a cup.”

Constance rose from her seat and smiled, not revealing the irritation she felt at being treated like a maid, a subject on which she had often waxed eloquent to Athos. He watched d’Artagnan’s reaction as he caught sight of her for the first time, and realised that he would have to have a talk with this one about the ‘no fucking the protectees’ rule extending to Constance too. As she busied herself with the tea things, Athos made the introductions. “Constance, this is Charles d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan, Constance Bonacieux.”

“Please to meet you, _mademoiselle_.”

“ _Madame_ ,” Athos corrected.

“My apologies, _madame_.”

Constance flushed and looked away. That was all they needed, Athos thought—another marriage destroyed by this team.

D’Artagnan accepted the teacup, but waited for Louis to offer him a seat, which showed more commonsense than Athos expected. Athos and Aramis remained standing near the door, Milady taking up position behind Anne’s chair. Louis was in one of his manic moods, over-cheerful, speaking a dozen miles to the minute about designs and ideas and inventions, and d’Artagnan was soon as lost as everyone else would have been. Anne still smiled, a little less brightly as she kept an eye on her husband, and Constance keep looking at her tablet rather than at the newcomer. At least d’Artagnan knew better than to try and control the conversation, nodding and letting Louis ramble on without interruption. Athos had learned the art of listening but not really six years ago, which was why he was normally Treville’s choice for Louis-duty. Aramis could do it too, but without the impassive expression that everyone expected of Athos, so Louis tended to mistake Aramis’s smiles for real interest. It only encouraged him.

After twenty minutes, Anne laid a hand on Louis’s arm and gently suggested that Charles might have things to sort out since he’d just arrived. “Of course! Well, this has been great, wonderful. A pleasure, Charles. Can’t wait to see you in action as it were. Right, leave us alone now.”

D’Artagnan did a double take at the sudden rudeness, something else he’d have to get used to. Athos signalled him to follow, and Aramis came with them. Milady did not, but the rules were different for her and Anne. They always had been.

D’Artagnan had enough sense to wait until Athos pulled them into his office downstairs and closing the door before saying, “What the hell was that?”

“That was a certified genius with bipolar disorder who has spent the last ten years of his life doing exactly as he pleased with more money than God. In other words, your boss. If you can’t cope, say so now.”

“No, I can manage. But he was literally babbling at one point.”

“Yes. It’s a bad day from that respect. Good from his—he’ll be very productive for a few days, then he’ll swing down into depression and not leave the house for a week. He takes medication and receives psychotherapy but chooses to exploit the benefits of his condition when possible. That’s as bad as he gets, though. He’s not a danger to anyone unless you count talking them to death. His wife knows how to manage him and we follow her lead.”

“Okay. Treville didn’t mention this.”

“No. He tends not to. By the way, Constance is a married woman and as such, off limits for intimate relations of any kind while you are employed.”

D’Artagnan blinked. “I never said a damn word about Constance.”

“No. I'm just anticipating. Anything else?”

“Do you always glare at Milady like that?”

“Yes. Anything else?”

“Nope. What now?”

“Now you change into your gym clothes and meet me in the gym in twenty minutes along with Aramis and Porthos. If you can’t find the gym, then you’ve just failed your first test.”

“I didn’t bring any—”

“Cabin,” Aramis said. “Everything should be ready for you.”

“Ah, okay.” D’Artagnan still wasn’t fazed, and Athos admired him reluctantly for that. “What you said about people being off-limits—does that include your ex? Because she’s really hot.”

Athos’s nostrils flared. “Get out.”

D’Artagnan shot him a cocky grin and obeyed. Athos concentrated on breathing through his nose and not banging his head against the desk.

**********************

“You set me up for that,” Athos said to Aramis.

Aramis held up his hands. “I most certainly did not. I explained what had happened, and made it clear it was a sore point. Absolutely nothing I said could have been construed as encouragement by anyone but a suicidal idiot.”

“So is he?”

“Suicidal? Not that I noticed.”

“So he just enjoys poking me for the hell of it.”

“Athos _querido_ , you were a little shit to him this morning. I’m guessing this is payback.”

“Lovely. I hope he goes after Anne, I really do. She’ll chew him into pieces so small the pool filter won’t even catch them.”

Aramis laughed. “I almost want to see that.”

“So do I. Get changed, I was serious about the gym.”

Athos hadn’t invited Anne. She had her own fitness regimen and would ask to spar when she wanted to. Unsurprisingly, she never asked him to spar with her, nor would he have accepted. Athos didn’t know why Treville was tormenting him by forcing them to work together, but work was all he would do. He refused to train or exercise beside her, or socialise anywhere near her. She was not the woman he’d thought she had been, and he hated the woman she actually was.

He changed in the gym’s locker room. Porthos joined him five minutes later. “So how hard do you want me to be on this one?” Porthos asked.

“Give it all you’ve got. Treville wants a full report.”

“Maybe you should fight him instead, then.”

“I intend to. Just not today. Is that a problem?”

Porthos shook his head. “So long as I’m not your weird idea of revenge on Thomas’s replacement. He’s a team mate, not the enemy.”

“He’s on probation, and he’ll be on the team when I deem him to be. This week, I plan to investigate how suitable he is. I don’t want another fuck up like Dujon.”

Porthos winced. “Yeah, that was bad. Treville wouldn’t do that to us again, would he?”

“He didn’t do intentionally last time.”

“Right. How’s Thomas?”

Unlike Aramis earlier, Porthos meant the question kindly. “No change. Never will be, realistically. He should have had the decency to get himself properly killed instead of this living death.”

“Steady on, Athos. He’s your brother.”

“He’s a fool. Or he was. I refuse to accept that sack of protein in my parent’s house as Thomas any more. There’s nothing left. They just won’t accept it.”

Porthos put a hand on Athos’s shoulder. “Fucking sucks, mate. Sucks all round.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll go set up in there. Hand to hand only, or paint guns?”

“Both. You do the hand to hand, Aramis can do the armed assault exercise. You’re not punishment, Porthos.”

“Good.”

Athos rubbed his face, then walked out into the exercise room. D’Artagnan had eight minutes. Aramis would probably show him where the gym was. Not telling him was petty, and Athos regretted it. It was unworthy of him.

Nevertheless, d’Artagnan was up to the challenge, arriving with two minutes to spare, without Aramis who strolled in three minutes late, probably to make a point. Porthos made _his_ point of helping d’Artagnan with his helmet and gloves.

“Thank you for joining us,” Athos said as politely as he could manage. “D’Artagnan, Treville wants us to assess your physical skills. Porthos is our dirtiest fighter. Aramis is also damn dirty in a fight—he’s going to test your ability to handle an armed assailant. I want you to take each of them. Again, you can refuse at any point, and walk away when you’ve had enough. In a real situation you _should_ be able to count on assistance but it’s not guaranteed.”

“Are you doing to haze me or test me?” The boy didn’t want for guts when it came to his superiors, but he was recklessly insubordinate.

“To test you,” Athos said, stony-faced. “Porthos, begin.”

Despite Porthos’s question and d’Artagnan’s clear accusation, Athos really did only want to see how the boy would handle himself. Porthos knew what Athos would be looking for, and they couldn’t expect anyone angry or insane enough to attack one of their power couple to fight nicely, so there was a set of manoeuvres that Athos knew damn well they didn’t teach in security guard training or in the air force. D’Artagnan’s success depended on native skill or his own private training.

No one beat Porthos. None of them could match his raw ability and strength. The question was how far d’Artagnan would get before he gave up, Porthos took pity on him, or Athos did.

Porthos didn’t do mixed martial arts. He did Porthos, which normally meant biting, gouging and kneeing, but not today. Today he just tried to overcome d’Artagnan with cunning and brute strength. As expected, d’Artagnan was initially taken off guard, but he recovered with commendable speed to bring the attack back to Porthos. Even padded up, both took blows which hurt. What Athos was looking for was the capacity to disable an attacker long enough for them to be cuffed or taken down by the police. What he saw was a capacity to go that far, and further, if needed.

D’Artagnan was starting to come off worst, but if a fight in real life took this long, Athos would be failing in his own job, so he stopped it. “Enough!”

The two men came to a halt, both breathing heavily. “Was I doing it wrong?” D’Artagnan asked.

Porthos slung an arm around his shoulders. “No, mate. You’re pretty good.” Still with his arm around d’Artagnan, he swung him about and walked off the mat—where Aramis launched his sneak attack.

D’Artagnan reacted instinctively, kicking the paintball gun out of Aramis’s hand and punching him in the chest. When Aramis pulled a knife, d’Artagnan had Aramis’s arm up around his back, and Aramis on his knees in under two seconds. Athos was impressed despite himself.

A slow clapping started from the doorway. Athos turned and found Anne watching, cool disdain in her expression. “Nicely done,” she said when d’Artagnan looked her way.

Anne was dressed in her usual outfit for any job not requiring actual formal wear—a tailored, very flattering trouser suit, with a pretty blouse and jewellery to soften the look. She carried a simple handbag, and likely had her weapon in the holster the good tailoring concealed. She walked onto the mat in her street shoes, which violated the gym rules, but Athos wasn’t going to say anything. She held out her hand to Aramis and helped him stand. “Where did you learn to fight like that, d’Artagnan?”

“Secondary school. Then pub brawls.”

“I do like a man with a bit of the savage about him.” She touched him under the chin, giving d’Artagnan the full benefit of her beautiful eyes—even Athos had to admit they were her best feature. “Queen liked you. She’s happy for you to be her second bodyguard. She’s tired of Athos glowering at her and at me.”

“I’m flatter—” D’Artagnan broke off and gripped Anne’s hand, reaching for her handbag, only to be faced with her other hand holding her stun gun, disguising as a lipstick. She tried to kick the legs out from under him, but he elbowed her hard in the chest, knocked her down, and sat on her with her arms behind her back. “As I was saying, I’m flattered.”

Aramis smiled. Porthos didn’t hide his grin at all. “You might want to get off her before you suffocate her,” Athos said, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes.

“I dunno, I heard she’s dangerous. Besides, from the back is my favourite position.”

Anne suddenly heaved, and took advantage of d’Artagnan’s brief distraction and threw him off, ending up on top of him where she used the stun gun against d’Artagnan’s neck. “I prefer to top, myself,” she said sweetly as he jerked and swore up a storm.

“That’s _enough_ ,” Athos said. Anne swung off d’Artagnan and stood.

“Sorry, I thought we were testing the newbie.”

“You’ve made your point. D’Artagnan? Porthos, give him a hand.”

Still muttering curses, d’Artagnan let Porthos haul him to his feet. “Was that necessary?” he asked Anne, who smiled brightly back at him.

“I thought so. You should have been trained in receiving stun gun shocks.”

“I am.”

“Then you need better training in knowing when you’re actually finished dealing with a hostile. Feel free to ask me for help in that direction.” She waggled her fingers in a wave at Athos, blew a kiss at d’Artagnan, then sauntered out.

D’Artagnan faced off to him, hands on hips. “So when do I get to see your secret skills, Athos?”

“When I deem it necessary. Evaluation over.” Athos looked at his watch. “Go shower. You have a suit measurement session at four. The tailor will come to your cabin, then you’re free for the rest of the day. Aramis, have you explained how meals and such work?”

“More or less, yes.”

Athos looked at d’Artagnan. “Any questions?”

“Yeah. Can I have one of those stun guns too?”

“Of course not. They’re illegal.” He walked out. The others could explain how yet again, the rules did not apply to Anne the way they did to everyone else.

**********************

Aramis helped d’Artagnan remove his gloves and helmet. “You can shower here or at your place. Towels and bathrobes on the shelves here. You might like to go for a swim too. When is the rest of your stuff coming?”

“I have to pick it up from my hotel, if I ever get a chance to.” D’Artagnan rolled his shoulder.

“Are you injured?”

“No. Just your boyfriend packs a hell of a punch.”

“Sorry about that,” Porthos said, not sorry at all. “Would you like one of us to pick up your bags?”

“Could you? I haven’t got time between now and when the suit guy is coming.”

“No problem. Give me the details.”

D’Artagnan told Porthos where he’d been staying. “Really appreciate this, Porthos.”

“You’re welcome. Have fun with the suit guy. Aramis?”

Aramis followed behind Porthos as his lover expected him to, messaging Athos to let him know where they were going. Porthos picked up the keys for one of their allocated cars, and climbed into the driving seat.

“Hell of a way to be introduced to Milady,” Aramis said once they set off.

“She doesn’t want any more shitheads either. Kid did all right, I thought.”

“Yes. Whether Athos agreed, I don’t know. I’m finding him harder and harder to read. It worries me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust you any more.”

“Give it a rest, Porthos. One night with Queen doesn’t remotely come close to what Milady did to Athos.”

“Except what she did wasn’t against our terms of employment, or guaranteed to get you sacked if Louis found out about it.”

Aramis gritted his teeth. “How many times do I have to say sorry over this? It was a mistake, we were both drunk and she wanted a bit of personal comfort. It won’t happen again.”

“Better not. And don’t go telling the kid about it.”

“You were doing a good job dropping the hints of doom over lunch, lover.”

“Just making it clear what the rules are, Aramis. Someone needs to warn him off Milady too.”

Personally, Aramis thought d’Artagnan was a big boy and could handle Milady just fine, and since she and Athos were divorced, Athos literally had no moral right to impose restrictions on who she slept with now. “I think this afternoon’s little display might have done that.”

“You heard her. Queen wants d’Artagnan to be her guard. So he’ll be working with Milady more often than not.”

“Since I’m no longer allowed to, does that surprise you?”

“I think Treville should start hiring some actual gay men, is all.”

“Milady would see that as a challenge, I suspect.”

Porthos laughed. “Heh, yeah, you’re right. Think this guy’s gonna last the distance?”

“Who knows? If he’s still here in the morning, then I guess he might. All I care about is Athos pulling the stick out of his arse before the next millennium.”

“Never gonna happen with Milady around.”

“Apparently not,” Aramis agreed with a sigh.

**********************

D’Artagnan had been measured up for clothing before, but this was a whole new level of tiresome after the day he’d had. He still felt like it would be a waste of time because he’d be gone by the end of the week, but if a stupidly rich genius wanted to waste money on him, who was he to say ‘no’? Rich guy wouldn’t even notice, he suspected, but it would annoy the piss out of Athos, which d’Artagnan was more and more inclined to take up as a hobby. If he treated his wife like that, no wonder she’d had an affair. D’Artagnan wouldn’t blame her if she stayed in the job just to spite him.

Shame they were both so good-looking. He could go for either one of them. But he didn’t need that hassle.

“I will be ready for a first fitting in a week’s time, monsieur.”

“What? Uh, okay. Sure.”

The man bowed a little. “I’ll be in touch with Monsieur de la Fère to arrange it.”

Left to himself for pretty much the first time all day, d’Artagnan had a chance to explore his new—temporary?—residence. It was nice, he had to admit, and as fully stocked as he could wish for. He’d made a massive mistake pandering to his mother’s fears and leaving the air force, but what was done was done. The best he could do was work this gig for a respectable period, then move on. He wished he had enough savings to move back home with his mother for a while, but he didn’t. At least this job should let him stack some money away for the future. That was its only good point, as far as he could see.

“Knock knock?”

D’Artagnan came out of the bedroom. “Hi, Porthos. Oh, thank you,” he said, spotting the bags in his hand. “Now I can change.”

“Me and Aramis wondered if you wanted to join us for dinner?”

“Up at the residence?”

“Nah, down here. He’s gone to pick up supplies.”

“Sure, why not? Do you usually eat in your place?”

Porthos scratched his neck. “There’s no ‘usually’, usually. Our shifts are all over the place. But if we’re home and off for a couple of days like now, then we try to eat together. Try to be normal.”

“I won’t be interrupting?”

“No, we’ll throw you out before we have sex.”

D’Artagnan grinned. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Jesus, kid, don’t say that around Aramis or he’ll take you up on it.”

“Who says I don’t want him to?”

The big guy’s grin disappeared. “Not big on cheating, myself. You want to be careful about breaking up other people’s relationships.”

D’Artagnan held up his hands. “Sorry. I was joking. I wouldn’t do that to a colleague.”

“Glad to hear it. Seven okay with you? I was gonna have a swim. Did you bring bathers with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Might see you out there then. You know which one’s ours, right?” D’Artagnan pointed to the one Aramis had indicated earlier. “Yep, that’s ours. Later, d’Artagnan.”

D’Artagnan exhaled in relief when Porthos left. _Shit_. This job was like walking a minefield without a mine detector, though he probably could have worked out it had been a stupid thing to say from everything Porthos had said earlier.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

D’Artagnan poked his head out again to see who was visiting now. “Oh, hello, Constance. Were you looking for someone?”

“Yes, you,” she said, dimpling attractively. “I wanted to know if you were free for supper.”

“Uh, Porthos and Aramis already invited me.”

“Damn. I guess it’ll be me and Athos again. Maybe next time.”

“Hang on, you live here?”

“Yes. That’s my cabin there. Next to Milady’s.”

“But Athos said you’re married.”

She made a face. “Long story.”

“Sorry if I’ve offended you—”

“It’s not you,” she said wryly. “Were you off somewhere just now?”

“A swim, maybe. Later though.”

“Then make me a cup of tea and I’ll tell you my sad story, and you can tell me how you ended up in this circus.”

Why the hell not? D’Artagnan put the kettle on, and looked for the tea. He found leaf tea, teabags, instant coffee, ground coffee, herbal tea bagged and loose, hot chocolate...the only thing not provided was booze, but he could have that for the asking up at the kitchen.

He returned with a teapot, milk and two mugs, to find Constance poking around the room. “I forgot how nice these were to begin with,” she said. “I’ve been in mine for five years, more or less.”

“They’re generous, that’s for sure. Do you take sugar?”

“No, just the milk. So, how did you end up here?”

“My mum wanted me to have a less dangerous job after my father died. You’ve got to do what your mum wants, right?”

“I guess so. I wouldn’t have thought bodyguarding was top of the list of safe occupations.”

“All the jobs I would have done in Civvy Street involved flying, so I didn’t have a lot of choice. And the pay is fantastic.”

“It is. But it’s a demanding job.” She sighed.

“You don’t like yours?”

“Me? No, I love it, even with Louis’s idiosyncrasies. Anne is adorable, and the best boss and friend you could wish for. There’s a lot of travel though. Puts strain on relationships.”

“Is that what happened to yours?”

Her pretty mouth turned down miserably. “No. Mine was a simple case of two people with nothing in common using a baby to try and bring us back together.”

“You have a _kid_? How do you manage that?”

She looked him in the eye. “I don’t. My husband has custody. We’re separated, but not divorced. He won’t let me divorce him.”

“Uh, does he have a say in that?”

“Not technically. But he has a say in whether I see my son, and he’s sworn if I divorce him, I’ll never see Pierre again. At the moment, I get to see him a few days each month. I can’t live without that much, at least.”

“Constance, the law won’t let him do that to you.”

“D’Artagnan, he’s a _lawyer_. His whole family are lawyers. I haven’t a hope against any of that. Anyway, the only thing it stops me doing is remarrying.”

“And having sex with your co-workers.”

She blinked. “You what?”

“Athos said you were off-limits because you’re married.”

“That smooth-talking bastard. Oooh, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. I’ll sleep with whoever I please, Athos de la Fère!”

D’Artagnan grinned. “Can I watch while you tell him?”

“I might just let you. How did this come up?”

“I have no idea. I met the de Bourbons, then I asked him about Louis’s, you know, ‘problem’, and the next thing I know he’s tell me not to even think about sex with you because you’re married. I didn’t even mention you!”

“I’ll kill him,” she said, shaking his head. “On the other hand, he probably doesn’t want another mess like the one with his wife and his brother. Or Aramis and Queen.”

“Aramis and Madame?”

She covered her mouth. “Oh shit. He didn’t tell you?”

“Not in so many words, no. Actually Porthos kind of hinted at something. Aramis slept with the boss’s wife?”

“He slept with _one_ of the bosses,” she corrected. “Yes, not long after Thomas’s accident. Athos went off like a Ariane rocket. Louis doesn’t know fortunately, and must _not_ find out, do you hear? He and Anne have a good marriage, but you can imagine that he’s a difficult person to live with. She was going through a bad patch, and she was terribly upset by the whole Athos/Milady thing because she loves both of them. And Aramis was just there, you know? I don’t really blame _him_ , because it’s hard to refuse Anne anything and she did the approaching, but Athos took it very, very personally.”

“What the _fuck_ have I got myself into?” D’Artagnan asked himself.

“On the one hand, the world’s cushiest job? On the other hand, a stressful, dangerous post with long hours and at least one eccentric employer?”

“And on _another_ hand,” he held up a foot, which made her giggle, “I’m working with a miserable sod with a hatred of all things non-Thomas and everything to do with Milady, and anyone who comes anywhere near to reminding him of them. Am I missing anything?”

“No,” she said, grinning. “Athos is lovely, honestly. Heart of gold, really kind, and loyal to a fault, which is how Treville keeps him around. But if you screw with him, he’ll bounce you off a wall.”

“Makes two of us.”

She wagged a finger at him. “You be nice, d’Artagnan, for your own sake if nothing else. Louis and Anne adore Athos, and so do the others, Milady excluded. And I adore him as well. If you make us choose, you’ll be out of here so fast your underwear will catch fire.”

“Warning noted. So much for making me feel welcome.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “If it’s any consolation, I’m about to go over and hand Athos his testicles for what he said. He won’t be a happy chappy after that.”

“Film it? I’ll lend you my phone and everything.”

“You’re evil.”

“I’m motivated.”

“Behave.” She sighed. “I suppose I ought to go and catch him so I can get him back into a good mood before supper. Such a poor little love, he is. See you tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, d’Artagnan. Enjoy supper with the boys.”

_Jesus. This bunch gets stranger by the minute._

**********************

Athos waited until exactly six o’clock before opening a bottle of Merlot. It was only a fig leaf on the ashes of his sobriety, but as long as he stuck to that one rule, he figured he could properly identify as a drinker, not a drunk. Not that anyone cared but him and Treville unless he drank on duty. Which he did not.

He poured the wine, but didn’t drink it. He was still thinking about the sparring this afternoon, and how Anne had effortlessly exposed d’Artagnan’s central weakness, which was overconfidence. He would have to work on it, but whether Anne had sabotaged his will to do so before d’Artagnan got started, Athos had no idea.

He was sick of thinking about d’Artagnan. Cocky little shit would probably last a month, if that, and then any effort spent on him would have been a total waste.

“Athos? Are you home?”

He stood up. “Come in, Constance. I thought we agreed on seven.”

She came in. “I thought I’d come around before you started drinking. Too late, I see.”

Athos got up and fetched her a glass. “Just in time to join me.”

“Thank you, I will. I mean, I may as well drink since I’m not allowed to have sex with anyone but my husband.”

Athos froze, holding the bottle ready to pour. “Uh...what?”

“Your little chat with d’Artagnan about not sullying my wifely virtue with his lusty loins. Or something like that.”

“Oh. I was just trying to ward off trouble, Constance.”

“And what if I want trouble, Athos? He’s bloody cute.”

“He’s a brat, and will be gone by the end of June.”

“He will if you keep treating him like dirt. Who died and made you the keeper of my sex life anyway? Want to keep me all to yourself, do you?”

Athos spat out a mouthful of wine all over the table. “Constance! I’ve never....”

“No, you haven’t, more’s the pity. Might have been kinder of Anne to have cut off your balls than to tie them up in knots around your neck.”

Athos grabbed a napkin from the sideboard. “This is most unbecoming of you, Constance,” he said, mopping up the mess he’d made.

“Yeah. What’s the female equivalent of blue balls?”

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

“Blue vagina? I’m even contemplating making a move on Luc. It’s either him or Serge, and I think I prefer youth over experience if you know what I mean. Unless you’re prepared to give up your vow of chastity for me?”

“Constance...dear girl, you’re lovely but—”

“Your heart is coal and romance is dead and by the way you’re still infatuated with your ex-wife. I know.”

“Am not,” Athos said faintly, burying his nose in his glass.

“Liar. You would hate fuck each other into the dirt, given half a chance.”

“I’m not giving her a quarter of a chance. I’d hate myself five minutes later, let alone the morning after. She’s a snake.”

“A snake who would die to protect Madame. No, I tell a lie, she’d kill for her. She’d die for you.”

“Only if she could take me with her,” Athos said, now on surer ground. “She lied to me, cheated on me, and killed my brother. Now she’s hanging around to rub my nose in it.”

“Thomas isn’t—”

“Go visit him and tell me he’s not dead, Constance. I dare you.”

“All right. But if you’re not going to throw your lovely body at me, please don’t ruin my chances with any other hot young men who might enter employment near my vicinity, okay?” She drank a large mouthful of wine while glaring at him.

“As you wish, though you can do better.”

“Yes, I can. But Porthos is married, and you’ve turned me down, so who’s left? Aramis?”

“Good point. Since you’re here, do you want to eat early? I missed lunch.”

“Me too, so yes.”

Athos got up to check on the casserole he’d obtained from Serge, and turned the stove off. He dished it into two bowls and brought it into the living room, then fetched the bread and implements, before sitting down to eat.

Constance spooned some of the stew into her mouth before saying, “I should tell you, d’Artagnan knows about Queen and Aramis.”

Athos banged his head against his fist. “I can’t trust that bloody man to keep the smallest secret.”

“Actually, it was me. It was an accident! I didn’t know he didn’t know, okay?”

Athos sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it was inevitable, though after today, I don’t know that I trust d’Artagnan with that kind of ammunition. What if he speaks to the press because he had his nose put out of joint?”

“Better make sure that doesn’t happen, hadn’t you, Athos.”

“How, by shooting him?”

“By making sure he’s satisfied, silly.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to begin, Constance. Can we stop talking about him, please? I have a rotten headache with d’Artagnan’s name on it.”

**********************

Supper with Aramis and Porthos was okay, really. More than okay. D’Artagnan liked them both, even if Porthos scared the hell out of him and Aramis alternated between weird, silly and painfully serious. The easiest thing to talk about was their time in the military, though their careers had followed very different paths. Porthos had been a paratrooper in the army, Aramis a nurse in the [SSA](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_Defence_Health_service), so they had been much closer to the action on the ground than d’Artagnan. But they shared a love of things that went bang, or very fast, or which fired at the speed of sound, and the best part of their current job was getting to play with Louis de Bourbon’s cars and technology.

“He’s used us to test stuff quite a few times,” Aramis said. “He’s a whizz at communications gadgets, and tracking, surveillance, any of that sort of thing, he’s brilliant with.”

“Remember that nightscope he designed? Sweet,” Porthos said with fond remembrance.

“Didn’t he make his fortune from software?” D’Artagnan asked.

“First fortune, my friend. Louis made his first billion by the time he was twenty. He made a fuel-efficient motor at twenty-two that the Koreans went nuts for, so that was another billion or three. Now it’s high end gadgets and cameras and phones and things. His personal worth is something like ten billion euros.”

“Not including the six billion euros which Anne controls as part of the foundation,” Aramis added.

“I can’t even imagine numbers that big,” d’Artagnan said, “even with a degree in physics. I can’t imagine _money_ numbers that huge.”

“Now you know why people hate him, and why he has us. Ask Athos to show you the _credible_ threats he and Anne have received. Not the ones from people wearing tinfoil hats, but the ones which keep Treville awake at night.” Aramis looked thoughtful. “The ones to really, really keep you awake are the ones we don’t hear about, of course. The kidnappers, the terrorists, the political extremists. They don’t warn in advance.”

“Treville said we’re just the visible face of his protection.”

“Visible and most exposed. Yeah, we usually have five or six other guards at every point in the schedule, in the crowd, working with the police, but they just filter out the most enthusiastic stalkers and nutters. It’s up to us to spot the ones who plan and who are armed with more than notes in crayon. Fortunately Louis refuses to travel outside Europe, and Anne won’t go near the United States. Unfortunately, that still leaves an awful lot of people who want to hurt them or make money from them.”

“It’s politics, right? Louis is too leftwing?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Porthos said. “Anne whips up the kind of interest that the British royals could only dream of, and she uses it like a knife. Totally deliberately, I might add. When Louis is paying attention, which happens about four times a year, he tries to get her to tone it down, but she does pretty much what she wants. She’s the one who took the genius and made him rich, after all.”

D’Artagnan went back to his cabin at ten o’clock with a lot to think about. Treville had been thorough in his explanation of who d’Artagnan would be working for, but somehow he’d missed out the flavour, the intensity, the human interest. Porthos and Aramis genuinely liked and admired their employers, even while acknowledging Louis was more often than not a spoiled brat who needed more than usually careful handling. Their love of Anne de Bourbon shone through, even if Aramis didn’t actually admit the physical side of that love. All in all, d’Artagnan felt slightly better about the job, and less inclined to toss it in, though it would only take another run-in with Athos for that to change again.

He was tired. He’d been on the go since six, and the sparring had been brief but intense. Especially the sparring with Milady, he thought ruefully, rolling his shoulder again.

The knock at the door surprised him. He opened it to find Milady standing there with a bottle of whisky in her hand. “I thought I might apologise for my little surprise this afternoon.” She held up the bottle. “Twenty-year-old single malt. Are you a whisky drinker?”

“Only on days ending in ‘y’,” he said, and she smiled. “It’s late.”

“We’re off tomorrow. Not even Athos gets moving before ten when we’re off and back at base.”

He stepped back. “Then, by all means, I’d be happy to drink your apology, Milady.”

She stepped in. “Anne, please. Do you really prefer d’Artagnan?”

“Only lovers and my mother call me Charles.”

“Ah. So, _Charles_ , where do you keep your good glasses?”

“Same place you do, _Anne_.”

He poured, while she curled up on the sofa as comfortable as a cat. “Athos would lose his mind if he knew you were here,” he said, handing her a glass.

“Yes. Which is a perfectly good reason to do it, don’t you think?”

“You’re just trying to get up his nose then.”

She shrugged. “A little. But mostly I wanted to talk to you, apologise, and,” she lifted her glass, “have someone to drink with. The others are a little antisocial towards me. Can’t imagine why.”

“I guess Thomas isn’t around for them to blame, so you get it all.”

“Yes, I did realise. I was being ironic, Charles. I hear you’re a pilot. I’m licensed to fly Louis’s helo, did anyone tell you?”

“No, they didn’t. Did you qualify during your service?”

“Yes. I wanted to fly fighter jets but it didn’t work out. When Treville was recruiting and said I could learn to fly Louis’s private plane as well as pilot his helicopter, that was all I needed to hear.”

“You fly his private jet?”

“Not as often as I’d like, but yes. I’m surprised they haven’t asked you about doing so.”

“Treville did, actually. But he also said I’d only be back up as he had three qualified pilots already. You and....”

“Paul and Édouard, the regular pilots. Louis doesn’t use it as much as you think, since he makes relatively few trips. It’s Madame who does the most travelling. I fly her whenever possible. I feel better when I have that under control.”

“You like her a lot?”

“She’s wonderful,” Milady said, with the first real emotion d’Artagnan has detected since he’d met her. “She’s everything I’d like to be.”

“Including married to a bratty genius?”

“Christ, don’t let Athos ever hear you say that. Insulting our bosses in his hearing is nearly as big a sin as sleeping with his brother.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you?”

She made a face and set her drink down. “Why do you care? It happened, it had awful consequences, and I paid the price for it.”

“Because I thought you were happy with Athos once, and you don’t strike me as stupid.”

She smiled, though it didn’t reach her incredible eyes. “Sex makes everyone stupid, Charles. Though I’m not offering that as a defence because I have no desire to justify myself to you or to defend myself. Athos already got his pound of flesh from me. That’s enough.”

“Sorry. You’re right, I was being rude.”

“You were. To answer your question—I slept with him the first time because he’d been pestering me, Athos had been working asynchronous shifts to mine for nearly a month, and I was curious as to how good Thomas was in bed. I admit that’s deeply trivial of me.”

“And the next time?”

“Ah, the second time. Thomas, as it turns out, was as devious as he was uninspired in bed, and made it clear that he’d tell Athos I’d seduced him if I didn’t keep sleeping with him. And the third time, he turned up drunk and tried to rape me. I stopped him and threw him out. The rest you know.”

“Holy fuck,” d’Artagnan said. “I mean, yeah, you screwed up the first time, but does Athos know the rest of it?”

“I told him, but he doesn’t believe me. Dear Thomas was _such_ a saint, you see.” She rolled her eyes. “It tends to sour a girl on her husband when he calls her a liar and idolises his rapist brother.”

“He’s an arsehole.”

“Yes. But I so didn’t come here to talk to you about him tonight.” She got up and walked over to d’Artagnan, then held out her hand. “I came over to apologise.”

“And to satisfy your curiosity.”

She smiled. “Indeed. Care to indulge me?”

D’Artagnan stood and took her hand, drawing her in. “Don’t mind if I do.”

**********************

Athos sat nursing a cup of coffee outside his cabin after Constance finally left for her own. Despite the fiery beginning to the evening, and Constance’s blatant come on which Athos refused with difficulty, though out of necessity, it had been a pleasant night. He liked Constance a lot, and counted one of his oldest and best friends. He had not doubted she was serious, but he also knew taking up her offer would destroy a beautiful friendship and be an unhappy experience for both of them. She was made for light and love, and he had blown his chance already for that. All he could count on now was friendship, and he would do nothing to hurt what he desperately needed now his marriage was over.

He heard a cabin door open and he glanced across the pool, wondering who was about at this late hour. He saw Anne walking away from d’Artagnan’s cabin, carrying her shoes and looking very pleased with herself.

Athos threw the coffee out on the ground. Time for brandy.


	3. Chapter 3

D’Artagnan didn’t see Athos the next day, though Aramis informed him he would be accompanying Louis to a rare public appearance the day after, in Paris. “Strictly as an observer, you understand.”

“Understood. So what do I do today?”

“I suggest weapons practice. Meet me at eleven at the gun range, and I run through what we use, and make sure you’re issued a suitable sidearm. Treville is coming over this afternoon and you can sit in on the briefing. Otherwise, your time is your own, with the exception that you are obliged to keep up your fitness.”

Taking the hint, d’Artagnan hit the gym, and afterwards, the pool. Porthos joined him and spotted him while d’Artagnan lifted weights. “I hope fitness doesn’t mean becoming as big as you,” d’Artagnan said as they towelled off after showering.

“Nah. It’d slow you down. Stay light, fast, limber. That’s all you need. Monsieur and Madame don’t want muscled-bound thugs surrounding them.” D’Artagnan eyed him up and down at that remark, and Porthos laughed. “You ain’t seen me in a formal suit yet.”

That pleasure was to be had when d’Artagnan joined them for Louis-watching duty. Porthos in a black tie outfit was nothing short of delicious. Aramis was a lucky guy. Athos scrubbed up nicely too, though the aristocratic disdain on his face spoiled it a bit.

Milady was, well, gorgeous. Nothing in her expression revealed that she had been introduced to d’Artagnan more intimately than her ex-husband had bothered with, so d’Artagnan kept his own face cool when he looked at her, though, remembering what she was like in bed, he found it difficult to stop staring at her.

“You are supposed to be watching the crowd, not potential shags,” Athos muttered at d’Artagnan, nudging him roughly. “Concentrate.”

“I am.” D’Artagnan briefly considered telling that Milady wasn’t just a ‘potential’ shag but thought that was probably going too far.

Athos strode off. Porthos and Aramis didn’t react. They were probably used to Athos’s snits.

Louis gave a good speech, d’Artagnan thought, and it was good to see that he wasn’t always as squirrelly as he’d appeared when d’Artagnan first met him. The crowd adored him, but even so, there were protestors at the back of the hall, complaining about him selling equipment to the military. Athos, down on the floor in front of the stage with Aramis, didn’t seem as worried by them as he was by a couple of blokes at the front of the crowd who he watched with an almost frightening intensity. One of them reached into his jacket pocket, and Athos pounced, leading the guy and his friend away with a minimum of fuss to where the backup security could deal with them.

In the debriefing after they’d returned to the residence, Athos explained. It turned out they were uncredentialed reporters, and once that had been established, they were allowed to return to their original position. The guy had been reaching for his phone, that was all.

“There were lots of people taking photos. Why them?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Their expressions were wrong. Everyone around them was happy, interested, obviously into what monsieur was saying. Those two didn’t smile, and they kept looking around the hall, as if checking for police and guards.” Porthos and Aramis nodded along as Athos spoke.

“I didn’t notice.”

Athos glared at him. “No, you didn’t.” Milady rolled her eyes but said nothing. D’Artagnan couldn’t tell if she agreed with Athos’s assessment or not.

Afterwards, Athos grabbed d’Artagnan’s arm and drew him aside. “Your job is to watch out for people exactly like the ones I pulled today. Stop staring at Milady’s cleavage. Madame will notice, even if Milady doesn’t.”

“I wasn’t staring at her.”

Athos shook off his arm in disgust. “I’m not an idiot, d’Artagnan. You have a job for this afternoon. Go to Treville’s office and ask his secretary, Marguerite, to pull out photos of our suspected hostiles from our records. Look at all of them. There’s only a thousand or so. Don’t come back until you can identity in each photo why we became suspicious. I will be questioning you on them later.”

“Yes, sir,” d’Artagnan said, snapping off a salute. “I thought I had a suit fitting this afternoon.”

“At four, yes. So I suggest you work quickly. You seem to have a talent for that. Go.”

D’Artagnan went, resisting the temptation to give Athos the finger. There were probably faster ways to be sacked in one’s first week on the job, but offhand, d’Artagnan couldn’t think of one.

**********************

“What’s up your butt now?” Porthos asked as Athos walked with him to Athos’s office.

“Nothing a little training wouldn’t eradicate.”

“You can’t blame him for not getting it the first time.”

“He’s supposed to be trained already, Porthos. That course he went on is useless crap.”

“Well, we knew that. He’ll pick it up.”

Athos went into his office after Porthos and closed the door. “He’s sleeping with Milady. Already. And he kept staring at her tits today. I’m not running a knocking shop.”

Porthos did a back take. “Seriously? I wonder who initiated it.”

“She did, of course. With his willing cooperation.” Athos sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. “I wish I’d never let Treville talk me into staying.”

“You can go any time, Athos. Me and Aramis wouldn’t judge you. You have more than enough reason to.”

“And spit on Louis’s generosity to my family?”

“I don’t think Louis meant you to stay here if you hate the job, mate.”

“I don’t hate the _job_ , Porthos. I hate...this. Her, in my face. Her using my team mates as weapons.”

“She’s not. Did either of them tell you about it? Sleeping together, I mean.”

“I saw her leaving his place at midnight his first day here.”

“So, more than likely they didn’t mean you to know. How could she know you were watching?”

“I wasn’t watching, I was drinking a cup of bloody coffee.”

Porthos sat down. “I’m worried about you, Athos. Aramis too.”

Athos snorted. “Fucking Aramis, or should I say, Aramis fucking, is one of my other headaches. Constance let slip to d’Artagnan about him and Queen, so now I have a snotty, overconfident newcomer, sleeping with my worst nightmare, in possession of our most sensitive piece of information.”

Porthos exhaled in a soft whistle. “Jesus.”

“Quite.”

“Still, only a problem if he leaves in a snit, ain’t it? I mean, he won’t use it unless he holds a grudge or something.”

“Apparently he already does. So all I can do is sit back and wait for the time bomb to go off. Or I can have him assassinated.”

“Or you could talk to him like a normal human being, instead of someone you dislike.”

“I do dislike him. He hasn’t the slightest respect for my position or my experience. He might have all the skills but unless he can pull it together, I can’t put any faith in him, and more importantly, neither can the de Bourbons.”

“Well then, you’ve got a problem. You can’t sack him and you can’t use him. What does Treville say?”

“You expect me to tell Treville d’Artagnan is sleeping with Anne? Do I look like I want to be humiliated further?”

Porthos shook his head. “Of course not. But he won’t judge you, only them. You gotta do something, Athos. This is tearing you apart.”

“I need a fucking drink,” Athos muttered.

“Well, you can’t have one. How about a swim?”

Athos stared, then nodded. “Okay. Porthos, it’s probably a waste of time, but we urgently need to work on his crowd watching abilities. Queen is speaking to a student union tomorrow. See if the exercise I set him today made a blind bit of difference, would you? Aramis and I will be going with Louis to the board meeting.”

“Sure, I can do that. What did you ask him to do?”

“Review every photo of every suspected hostile we’ve recorded in the last six years.”

Porthos’s lips twitched. “You can be a real bastard, Athos.”

Athos bowed his head. “Thank you. Now, let’s go for that swim. Maybe I’ll drown and solve all my problems.”

**********************

“You can see the crowd all right?”

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said. “Why aren’t we on stage?” Porthos had them waiting in the wings behind a notice board. Queen and Milady were a little ahead of them, waiting for the introductory speaker to welcome them.

“Because Milady’s got that bit covered. Our job is to watch the audience, nothing more. Now I know you’re a ride along this week, but if you see anything, give me a nudge. Do _not_ do anything, okay?”

“Understood.”

D’Artagnan concentrated on at first spotting Treville’s people among the audience. There were five, Porthos said. One, two, three....

Got them. Now for hostiles. With Porthos’s briefing beforehand, and the tedious photo review of the day before, d’Artagnan now had a clearer idea what they were looking for, and what had drawn Athos’s attention at Louis’s speech. At first the crowd looked like a riot of faces and clothes and random behaviour, but as he scanned, he began to see a pattern. Similar ages, expressions, movements. He could disregard things that were similar to many others of the same type. Porthos had told him to look for anomalies. Someone better or less well dressed. Someone looking the wrong way in the wrong way. Resentment and anger where there should be laughter or interest, or waiting for something to happen that wasn’t in the program.

“Aramis is good at this. Best of the lot of us, if I’m honest,” Porthos had said. “Eyes like a sniper, I’m telling you. But we all have to be able to do it. It’s the only warning we’ll get.”

Queen and Milady had received their cue, so they walked out on stage. D’Artagnan watched the audience applaud, looking for anyone not clapping. “There,” he murmured. “Red cardigan, second row.”

“Got him. Any others?”

“Black jacket, fourth row, woman in yellow t-shirt next to him.”

“Good. Keep going.”

Porthos had him identify every single person d’Artagnan considered a potential threat, and while d’Artagnan doubted Porthos actually needed the help, d’Artagnan was pretty sure he hadn’t missed anyone when they reviewed his observations at the end of the speech, when Queen and Milady were safely behind scenes, talking to the University’s chancellor.

“You missed the guy in a denim jacket, fiddling with his ear and reaching into his pocket every few seconds.”

“I saw him, but I didn’t think he was a problem.”

“The ear thing could have been a radio, and he could have been obsessively checking for a weapon. Err on the side of caution. It’s gonna be the one you miss who’ll end up killing our protectee, okay?”

“Okay.”

Porthos clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good though. After a few times, it becomes like second nature. Once you have to deal with a couple of randos actually making a move on Madame, you’ll have an even better idea of what we’re looking for.”

“Right. Am I really going to be working with just Milady?”

“If we have to split up, yeah. I might come with the first few times, but usually we only have two on her if someone’s got to be with Louis. Full team if we don’t. Most of the time we don’t split up.”

“Why not just hire more guards?”

“Because two’s enough, four is super cautious, and five is paranoid. Mind you, it’s always the full team if it’s an overnight job. Someone has to stand on guard at night, and we break it up into four-hour shifts then.”

“Got it. Now what do we do?”

“We wait for Milady to radio, then we escort her to the car. Leaving’s easier than arriving, usually. She had to arrive out front most of the time, for the photographers. Leaving, we can go out back, or underground. Out of sight if possible.”

“I can’t believe anyone wants to kill Madame. She’s just...lovely.”

Porthos smiled. “Yeah, she is. But she’s a woman in public and you’d be amazed how much that annoys some people. You should see her twitter replies and Facebook post comments sometime. Fortunately she never reads it herself, but Constance does. Says it’s a cesspit.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, mate, you can’t,” Porthos said, suddenly serious. “You’re a bloke. Seriously, have a look when we get back.”

So, when he got back, d’Artagnan texted Constance for the urls for Madame’s social media. Constance came down to the kitchen in person to show him over lunch. “We made the mistake once of blogging about the abuse. It increased tenfold,” she said. “Now Madame keeps quiet and we delete or block, so what I’m showing you is what I haven’t got around to doing just today.”

D’Artagnan looked at the stuff on Twitter, the anti-Anne de Bourbon Facebook pages and blogs, the Reddit subforums, and the emails. “Treville insists we keep those and any letters. I also screencap any threatening comments.”

“Constance, this is appalling. The police—”

“Will step in once someone gets hurt. We prefer not to let it get that far.”

“I feel sick.”

“Now you know why I get the big money. We learned early on not to let Queen see this garbage. It’s what they want, these bastards. To revolt and scare her into silence. Silence the woman with opinions.”

D’Artagnan shoved the laptop away. “Jesus.”

“Yes.” She patted his arm. “You and the team are part of what keeps her going, so I’m always grateful. Milady has been a rock. You couldn’t get two women more different in some ways, but Madame has known Milady has her back for over six years, and it makes such a difference. It used to be Milady and Athos together, but, you know.” Her mouth turned down.

“Can’t blame Athos for that.”

“I’m _not_.” She stood up and glared down at him. “Typical man, jumping from me praising Milady to you defending Athos.”

“Constance, I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Well...just watch it, okay? Sore subject.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later. Maybe we can have dinner together?”

“Um....”

“I know, you have a prior engagement.”

“I do. Tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “Busy. Then I’m at home for the weekend with Pierre. Next week, maybe?”

“Sure.”

D’Artagnan hadn’t been lying about a prior engagement, but in the circumstances, thought it unwise to mention that he was having dinner with Milady herself. He hadn’t met up with her since that first night, but she’d texted him before they set out this morning and he’d invited her over. She was great company, and d’Artagnan refused to apologise for liking her. And the sex was _incredible_.

Athos was a bloody fool.

**********************

“He did good,” Porthos said, sitting down in Athos’s office. “Spotted everyone but a borderline pick. I think he’ll get his eye in pretty fast.”

“Glad to hear that. What about his general physical skills? That first spar wasn’t a fluke?”

“Not as far as I can tell. He’s fit, fast, and quick on the uptake. Nice manners too.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Athos said, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice.

“People tell me you have nice manners too, but I’ve never noticed,” Porthos said. They’d known each other long enough to tease, but Athos sensed a criticism there anyway. He brushed it aside. He kept his manners for the employers. “I got him to look at the garbage thrown at Queen online. Never hurts to remind the team what we’re up against.”

“Quite. It’s only getting worse.”

“Yeah, with fascists everywhere.”

“That and the fact we have no real defence against a suicide bomber if it comes down to it.” Athos bitterly resented the fact that Milady’s behaviour meant he was no longer suitable to work as one of Queen’s preferred bodyguards, because of the two de Bourbons, she was by far the most likely target. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. “Would he die to protect her, do you think?”

“Won’t know until we know, I guess. I don’t have any reason to suspect he wouldn’t but....” Porthos shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Not reassuring, Porthos.”

“Sorry, but it’s a hell of a question to ask. He must have guts, doing the job he did.”

“Not the same thing. But I’m fretting over nothing, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Treville’s a good judge of character.”

Athos made a face at his friend. “Oh yes, which is how we ended up with the three numpties before this one.”

“Point,” Porthos admitted. “But generally he is.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I’ll keep you with Queen for another couple of weeks if I can, just to supervise. You tell me when he’d ready.”

“Fine. Milady told me that the latest plan for their summer break is Iceland.”

“Now that, I like. What’s the chance of Louis sticking to that idea?”

“Slim to none. My bet’s on Norway.”

“Oslo? Anne hates it.”

“She was talking about Bergen. Edinburgh and Copenhagen came up too.”

Athos threw up his hands. “I’m sure we’ll find out in good time, like the day before.”

Porthos laughed. “So long as we ain’t in Paris for the heat, I don’t care.” He stood. “Fancy dinner?”

“Not really. I have things to do.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t sit and drink alone. Come over if you want.”

Athos raised an eyebrow. “Last time I did that, I got an eyeful. I don’t _really_ need to know that much about your sex lives, Porthos.”

“Then don’t walk in without knocking. See you later.”

Athos shook his head as Porthos left. He _had_ bloody well knocked. Aramis just didn’t feel like stopping what he was doing. Athos had certainly gained a new appreciation of the man’s flexibility that night.

Speaking of which, Athos needed to work out, maybe go for a run. The late-thirties was no time for him to be getting fat and slow, not in this job. He went to the gym and changed in the locker room. Pity he hadn’t asked Porthos to hang around for a spar—the weight room would have to do for now. He walked in, and stopped when he saw d’Artagnan in a clinch with Anne.

“Not in the gym,” he snapped, heading for the weights bench.

“Excuse me?” D’Artagnan stood, hands on hips again, glaring at him. Milady was nowhere in sight.

“I said, take your canoodling somewhere else.”

“She was getting something out of my damn eye, Athos.”

“I’m sure.”

D’Artagnan stalked over to him. “Apologise.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I said, _apologise_.”

“No. And don’t speak to me like this. I’m your manager.”

“You’re a jealous bastard, that’s what you are, and a dog in the manger. You want to keep all the ladies in your harem so no one else can touch them but you, don’t you?” Athos didn’t dignify this nonsense with an answer. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want Anne or Constance, but God forbid anyone else offer them what you can’t.”

“And what makes you think you offer them anything they can’t get better from anyone else?

“I’m better than your fucking rapist of a little brother.”

Athos advanced on the man. “What did you say?”

D’Artagnan stuck his jaw out defiantly. “You heard me. Thomas tried to rape Anne, but you’d rather treat her like shit than admit that.”

Athos punched him, hard. D’Artagnan staggered, but came back to fend off another blow, landing one himself in Athos’s gut. Athos dropped even the semblance of restraint then, hitting d’Artagnan with everything he had, driving the man back and down, pummelling him, rage surging through his veins and darkening his vision. He had his hands on d’Artagnan’s throat and by God he’d shut that miserable lying—

“Athos! What the fuck are you doing?” Someone kicked him hard in the side, loosening his grip, then dragging him off d’Artagnan.

 _Anne_. She stood over him while Athos sat on his backside, blinking. D’Artagnan wasn’t moving. “Oh God, what did I do?”

Anne spoke into the radio. “Aramis, get to the weights room stat. We have injured.” She pulled her pistol and aimed it at Athos with both hands. “Get up and go to your office. Now.”

He looked up at her. “What?”

“Get up and go to your office, or I will shoot you. Move!”

He stumbled to his feet. She kept the weapon pointed at him until he walked out of the room, then she shut the door behind him. He slumped against the wall in the corridor outside. What had he done?

**********************

Aramis scrambled at Milady’s barked order, grabbing the first aid kit from their cabin and pelting hell for leather up to the residence, down the stairs and flying into the weights room. He found d’Artagnan sitting against Milady’s knee, only half-conscious, and looking battered as hell. “What happened?” he asked as he crouched to look at the kid.

“Athos pounded the crap out of him. I pulled him off while he was choking Charles.”

“ _Choking_ him?”

“That’s right. Charles was out until a few seconds ago. Do I need an ambulance?”

“I don’t know. D’Artagnan, can you hear me? Charles, open your eyes.”

D’Artagnan winced at Aramis’s shout, and opened one swollen eye before quickly closing it. “Shit,” he whispered.

“Okay. Can you breathe? Are you having trouble there?”

“No.”

Aramis looked at Milady. “Anne, can you get some cold packs? And call Porthos? I’ll need him to get d’Artagnan to his cabin.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t need to go to a hospital?”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll check him over while you get the cold packs. Go on,” he urged, as she looked at their injured colleague.

“Don’t let Athos anywhere near him.”

“I won’t.”

He propped d’Artagnan up until she stood and left as he asked, then laid the kid down carefully. He checked his pulse and breathing, then lifted d’Artagnan’s shirt to check for bruising. Athos had really done a number on him, but Aramis couldn't find any broken bones. The kid’s throat was swollen, which was a concern. The cold packs would help.

Porthos ran in. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but Athos did this to him. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t matter right now. I want to get d’Artagnan to his cabin so he can lie on a bed.”

“I’ll fetch the stretcher.”

Milady returned with the cold packs, and Aramis put them around d’Artagnan’s throat and the worst facial bruising. “Do you know what happened?” Aramis asked her.

“D’Artagnan had something in his eye and I was trying to see it to get it out. Athos walked in, and made a crack at us about it. I went to the locker room, but d’Artagnan got up in his face about his remark. I heard shouting and then fighting, came back in, and found Athos choking him. I made him leave and go to his office. Aramis, we can’t cover this up.”

“We need to speak to him about it, but first, let’s get the kid somewhere comfortable.”

“He’s really okay?”

“Not okay, but not in danger as far as I can see. Call Doctor Lemay to come and see him once we move him to the cabin. Ah, there’s Porthos now.”

Milady helped them strap d’Artagnan onto the stretcher, then took charge of Aramis’s kit, while the two men lifted d’Artagnan and carried him to the lift. Fortunately they exited at ground floor without anyone spotting them, and got the kid to his cabin without being challenged.

Milady waited until d’Artagnan was safely on his bed and the cold packs repositioned, before saying, “I’ll call Lemay, but then I’m going to speak to Athos.”

Porthos put his hand on her arm. “Maybe it’d be better coming from one of us.”

“Fuck that. He just tried to kill Charles because I’m sleeping with him. I’m not having it. This time, Treville needs to know.”

“I agree,” Aramis said, though reluctantly. “But can you wait to talk to Treville until we discuss it with d’Artagnan too? I want to know what happened from his point of view.”

“All right. But if Athos comes anywhere near him today, I’m going to stop him with any means necessary. Is that clear?”

“Yes, it is,” Aramis said. “Thanks, Anne. You saved d’Artagnan’s life.”

She went still. “This has gone far enough,” she said quietly, then walked out.

“Do you think Athos has finally lost it?” Porthos asked, sitting on the bed next to d’Artagnan.

“I’m afraid he might have done, yes. Jesus, what a mess.”


	4. Chapter 4

Athos sat in his office, unable to stop shaking. He couldn’t even clearly remember the last ten minutes, just the overwhelming fury, and the need to punish someone, anyone, for it. And Anne’s voice, like a bucket of iced water, stopping him from....

He’d tried to kill d’Artagnan. A team mate. A co worker.

He’d tried to kill an innocent man with his bare hands.

His office door opened with a bang, and Anne stalked in, slamming the door behind her. “What on earth were you thinking, Athos?”

“I wasn’t,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t thinking at all. Just...reacting.”

“This has got to end. I can’t live my life worrying you’ll kill anyone who sleeps with me, and you need to accept we are over.”

“He said...he said Thomas tried to rape you.”

Anne went still. “Yes.”

Athos looked up. “Why...?” He swallowed, throat gone dry as dust. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you.”

“You said...he had been persistent. And he got drunk.” He blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. “I don’t remember you saying....”

She frowned at him. “I told you, he’d got rough with me. What did you _think_ I meant?”

“That he’d got handsy. Or overenthusiastic.”

“Bloody hell,” she breathed. “Okay. We had sex once by my choice. The second time he forced me into it by threatening to tell you about the first time. And the third time, he didn’t bother asking. He was drunk, he pushed me around and held me down on the bed. I did what any of you would do in that situation, and threw him out. I didn’t mean him to walk straight into the path of a car, but I can’t say I cried any tears over that, considering.”

Athos put his head in his hands. “I can’t...Thomas wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you calling me a liar? Again?”

“Is there any possibility it was just miscommunication? That you overreacted?”

“Anything to absolve your dear brother of responsibility, Athos? No, he knew what he was doing. He’s a little creep, and frankly I wish he’d died, instead of hanging on like an albatross around your family’s neck. He’d been pestering me to sleep with him when you were on shift without me on and off since we were engaged.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I loved you and stupidly didn’t want to hurt you. I thought I could handle him.” She shrugged. “I made a mistake.”

“Christ. Anne...I’m sorry.” He stood. “I need to see d’Artagnan—”

She held up a hand. “You keep away from him. He’s still not fully conscious. I’m going to call Treville and if he calls the police, I’ll be perfectly happy to state what I saw.”

Athos nodded. “Yes. It’s what I deserve.” He hung his head. He’d lost his wife and now his job because Thomas.... “I didn’t know he was like that,” he whispered to himself. “Everyone loved him.”

“Everyone spoiled him, you mean. He never learned to accept a ‘no’ from a woman.”

“I’m sorry. What have I done to you? Anne, we divorced over this.”

“We divorced because I cheated on you. Which I did.”

 _But I love you._ “I fucked up. Oh God, I fucked up.”

His eyes filled, and he hid his face, ashamed of weeping before the woman he’d loved so much and thought he hated just as intensely. Now all that was left inside was this hollow sadness.

An arm slid around his shoulders. “Athos.” She kissed his head. “Maybe we should talk. Really talk.”

“Yes,” he gasped out. “I’m so sorry, Anne.”

“Calm down.” She stroked his hair. “You should go lie down, I think.”

“I...I need to resign. And...no, you said not to speak to him. What should I do? Everything I do is wrong. I hurt you, him, Constance—”

“What did you do to Constance?”

“I gave her a blue vagina or something.”

“What?” Anne laughed in disbelief. “Athos, you’re not making sense.”

He twisted and put his head on her stomach. “No. I’m sorry. I lost you and I love you.”

“I love you too, Athos, but I think it’s broken too badly to fix now.”

“No...please, I want to...how can I fix this?”

“Shhh,” she said, stroking his hair. “Just relax for now, love. We’ll sort it out.”

**********************

Milady returned nearly an hour later. Her eyes were red but her gaze steady. “How is he?”

“Asleep,” Aramis said, still looking at d’Artagnan. “Lemay just left, and says he’ll be okay, but someone needs to watch him tonight.”

“I’ll do it. We were having supper together anyway.” Aramis drew them both outside the bedroom. “How badly hurt is he?” she asked.

“Nothing’s broken, or even cracked, which is surprising because Athos must have been out of control. Thank God you stopped him.”

“God had nothing to do with it, Aramis. I’ll stay with him overnight. What do I need to do?”

“Just the cold packs, pain relief, and come find me if you’re concerned about anything. If he can’t breathe, call the paramedics immediately, then me.”

“Is that likely?”

“I hope not.” Aramis rubbed his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Where’s Athos?”

“In his cabin.” She pursed her lips. “I left him asleep but he’s in a bad way.”

“Did you call Treville?”

“Not yet. Athos wants to resign.”

“Surely that’s what you want too, isn’t it?”

“No! Aramis, don’t be ridiculous. I never wanted him to leave. I just wanted him to be an adult about the fact I wasn’t going to either. There...seems to have been a misunderstanding over what happened with Thomas. Athos and I need to talk but not right now. He could use a friend.”

Aramis blinked in surprise. “I’m surprised you care.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said coolly. “Constance is busy, but she can come by later.”

“Then I’ll go to him now, and relieve you so you can have dinner. Is that all right?”

“Perfectly. Aramis—don’t let him talk to Treville just yet, okay? I know Treville needs to know but....”

“Maybe when we’ve all talked.”

“Yes. Go, I’ve got this. Where’s Porthos?”

“Getting some more cold packs for d’Artagnan’s freezer. Let him know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” She unbuttoned her jacket and hung it up. “I’ll lie on the bed. Easier to watch him that way.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you.”

She dismissed him with a wave. Aramis went around the pool and found Athos’s cabin door ajar. His friend lay fully dressed on his bed, his eyelashes wet with tears, apparently asleep. “Oh, my friend,” Aramis said quietly. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

He shucked off his shoes and lay down next to Athos, moving in close behind him. Athos’s breaths came out in little sobs and he twitched when Aramis put his hand on his shoulder.

They had to fix this, but Aramis had no idea how.

He dozed because he could hardly not when he was prone and comfortable, but woke instantly when he felt a hand on his back. “It’s me,” Constance whispered.

Aramis slid off the bed and went to the living room with her. It was after six already. “Can you stay with him?”

She nodded. “All night if he needs it. Aramis, what’s going on? This isn’t like him at all.”

“No, but it’s been building for a while. Right now, I want him and d’Artagnan both off duty, and a chance for us all to talk before Athos does something idiotic—more idiotic—and Treville is involved. So not a word, okay?”

“Of course not. Where are you going now?”

“To see how d’Artagnan and Anne are doing, then home with Porthos. Have you eaten?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” She leant up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for looking after them.”

“It’s my job, but you’re welcome.”

“Oh, Louis’s cancelled the meeting for tomorrow. He’s not feeling well, Madame says. Stomach bug.”

“Oh good. I mean, I’m sorry he’s unwell, but that means Athos won’t be needed. I didn’t want to lie to Treville until I had to.”

“No, me either. Off you go.”

Aramis walked to d’Artagnan’s cabin. Milady lay on the bed, reading on her tablet, and went out to talk to him. “He woke up in pain. I gave him the ibuprofen, and he’s nodded off again.”

“Good. If he’s hungry, he needs to stick to liquids. Certainly no bread or meat, anything that could stick in his throat. Cold liquids will be easier on him too.”

“Porthos already brought juice and soup as well as the cold packs.” She stretched. “Give me an hour? I want to change and eat.”

“Of course. Constance is with Athos.”

“Good.”

“And Louis’s cancelled his engagement tomorrow, so we have one more day’s grace.”

“Charles’s face won’t heal in a day.”

“No, but it gives us time to think. Take as long as you want.”

She nodded and left. Aramis sat in the bedroom chair and watched d’Artagnan. The kid’s face was a mess, and he’d be sore for a few days. Aramis wondered what he’d do. He had every right to press charges with the police, and God knows Athos hadn’t given him the smallest cause to be merciful. Treville would be heartbroken, but in a way, this was all on him, not letting Athos resign when he wanted to. Now they had to deal with the consequences of that, and Aramis had a horrible feeling they’d be worse now than if Athos had left a year ago as he’d wished.

D’Artagnan stirred. “Anne?”

“No, Aramis.” He went to d’Artagnan’s side. “How do you feel?”

“Rough.” D’Artagnan’s voice was only a whisper. “Where’s Anne?”

“Meal break. She’ll be back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Doctor’s orders, my friend. Do you want something to drink?”

D’Artagnan shook his head then winced. “Need to pee.”

Aramis helped him off the bed, and to the bathroom door. The kid was alarmingly wobbly on his legs. “Don’t lock the door,” Aramis warned.

D’Artagnan managed without help, and got back to bed safely. He lay down with his arm over his eyes. “Still in a lot of pain?”

“Yeah, but I can cope.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Athos went nuts.”

“Any reason for that?”

“He didn’t like me pointing out he was being a shit to Anne, and to me. Guy’s a lunatic. What are you going to do about him?”

“What do you want us to do?” D’Artagnan didn’t respond. “Charles?”

“Don’t put this on me, Aramis. Leave me alone, okay? Talking hurts.” D’Artagnan rolled on his side, facing away from Aramis. Aramis took the hint and stopped asking him questions. But he still needed an answer, whenever that would be.

**********************

D’Artagnan woke, unable to breathe, and he panicked, scrabbling at his throat. “Charles, stop. Calm down.” Anne’s cool hands moved his own away. “You’re not choking. Easy. Take it slow.”

Heart racing, he found it hard to obey at first, but once he realised he was actually breathing, he let her take charge, following her directions to breathe slower, relax.

“Can you speak?” D’Artagnan opened his mouth, but all that came out was a wheeze. “That answers that. Let me get you some water. Are you in pain?” He nodded. He felt like an elephant had sat on his chest.

She came back with ice cold water and a glass of soluble aspirin. Once he’d swallowed both, he could whisper, “Thanks.”

She stroked his hair off his face. “You’re welcome. I won’t ask how you feel because it’s written all over your face.”

“You stayed. Thank you.”

“Not at all. I’m the reason you’re in this state.”

“No—”

She stopped him talking with a finger on his lips. “Yes. Listen to me, Charles. Athos had no excuse for losing his temper yesterday or beating you, but he didn’t realise what Thomas had done. Apparently whatever you said to him came as a complete shock.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“I thought I had. I thought I’d been very clear, but...in all the emotional upset and the yelling and the worry about the accident...it seems I didn’t say it the way he could understand. Even though I’ve told him now, it’ll take a while for it to sink in.” She picked a bit of thread off the duvet cover.

“Did you only sleep with me to poke him in the eye?” D’Artagnan rubbed his throat and reached for the water again.

“No. I slept with you because you’re pretty. I like sex. I don’t like being treated like I have herpes because of what happened.” She shrugged. “Though I’m not blameless.”

“You deserve happiness.”

“Yes. So does he. Charles, I know you’ll want to do something about him—”

“I’ll be the bad guy if I do.”

She looked surprised. “But he attacked _you_. He tried to kill you.”

“His friends, not mine. I should leave. I’m not welcome.”

She pursed her lips in apparent frustration. “See, this is what I don’t want. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Slept with you. That’s enough.”

“I don’t belong to him, Charles,” she snapped. “No, he’s going to face this like a man. So, do you want me to report this to Treville? To the police?”

“Now?”

“When you’re ready.”

The anger at his beating had faded, but not gone. He felt so tired, depressed by all the alternatives. Leaving on some pretext—he could claim his mother wanted him back home, he supposed—would give him a graceful out, even if it did mean he was unemployed. “Give me a day?”

“As much time as you want. You can’t go on duty for a week at least, not with those bruises. Aramis is pushing for Athos to take time off too. Fortunately there’s a lull in engagements just now. Gives us a little breathing space.”

He reached for her hand. “Will you stay?”

“When I can.” She stroked his hand. “You’re not developing romantic feelings for me, I hope. We’ve known each other a whole five days.”

“No. I like you. I’d like to be your friend.”

She smiled. “I can always do with a friend, especially a pretty one. Aramis said you should stick to liquids. There’s soup from last night, and juice.”

“Juice is fine. Not hungry. I can get up.” He sat up, but immediately felt dizzy. “Or not.”

“Thought so. Stay in bed. I’ll fetch the juice. And Aramis will probably be along to poke you in a bit.”

“Athos?”

“Constance was sitting with him last night. Aramis will have thoughts about what to do with him today.”

She went off to fetch the juice. D’Artagnan tried sitting up again, this time a lot more slowly, and it went better. He pushed pillows behind him and concentrated on breathing and controlling his dizziness. The aspirin had already started to help the pain in his throat but he could have done without any of this. He’d never been beaten up this badly in his life. The bastard could really punch.

When Anne returned, it was with Aramis. “Ah, you live. How do you feel?” D’Artagnan gave him the thumbs down. “Oh dear. You take it extremely easy today and one of us will either be with you or within calling distance. I mean, on the phone, not shouting.” D’Artagnan gave him a queasy smile for that. “Liquids, cold packs, maybe a steamy shower or two will help. Do you want to see a doctor again?”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “What are you doing about Athos?”

“Not sure really. Anne, what do you think?”

“I think you shouldn’t put Charles in the position of having to decide, Aramis. It’s quite unfair.”

“Yes, it is. Though your opinion is important, of course. Leave it with us.”

“If he goes,” d’Artagnan croaked out, “you’ll hate me.”

“Nonsense. He brought this entirely on himself, no matter what he did or did not know about Thomas. Porthos knows that, I know that, and so does Anne. What matters is what’s best for you, and keeping you safe.”

D’Artagnan wanted to believe Aramis, he really did. “Whatever. Anne, I’m fine for now. I’ll call you or Aramis if I’m feeling dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” Aramis asked, sitting on the bed and peering into d’Artagnan’s eyes.

“When he first sat up,” Anne said, frowning at d’Artagnan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yeah. I won’t do anything for a bit. Just catch up on the news and emails and stuff. Maybe give me an hour? Then I’ll shower?”

“Okay,” she said. “Aramis? You’ll come back then?”

“Yes, either me or Porthos. Thank you, Anne.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Aramis.” She leaned over and kissed d’Artagnan’s cheek. “Rain check on that dinner date, handsome.”

“Absolutely. Thanks.”

Aramis hung around after Anne left. “You really believe we’d punish you for this?”

“Your friend. I’m not.”

“Yes, but....” Aramis peered at him again. “Who threw the first punch?”

“Him.”

“There you go. You’re the victim here, d’Artagnan. I hate that it’s Athos who did it, but he did. Do you need anything now before I go?”

“Let me use the loo.”

D’Artagnan made it to the bathroom. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking at his face. No Skyping with Mum for a bit, for sure. Athos must _hate_ him.

He used the loo and managed to return to the bedroom without falling over. “Done now.”

“Right. Stay in bed. Got your phone, your tablet? Good. See you soon, Charles.”

As soon as Aramis left, d’Artagnan starting looking for security job vacancies. He couldn’t afford to pretend this would all work out as Aramis hoped.

**********************

Athos heard Constance talking to Aramis in the living room. “I’m awake,” he said loudly, before sitting up. His body felt like it was made of lead, and his eyes burned.

Aramis came in. “How do you feel?”

“Like a fucking idiot.” Constance came into the room. “Thank you for staying last night, dear.”

“Any time, Athos. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“No need.”

She gave him a look. “Yes, there bloody is. Aramis, sit on him.”

Aramis bowed. “Yes, _madame_.”

Athos got more comfortable. “So, it’s house arrest for now?”

“What? No. Mind if I sit?” Athos waved at the chair. “We do have a problem.”

“No, ‘we’ don’t. I do. I’m resigning. I’ve made my mind up. I have no business doing this job if I can’t control my temper, and Anne explained that I didn’t even have a plausible excuse. I’ve treated her very badly, let alone d’Artagnan, and so I’ll go. No arguing with me, Aramis.”

“No argument from me, Athos.”

Athos raised his eyebrows at that. “Well, good. What’s the time?” He checked his watch. “Treville will be in the office by now.” He reached for his phone.

“Only, have you thought about what effect this is going to have on Anne and d’Artagnan? Not to mention the de Bourbons?”

Athos groaned. “Jean already pulled this on me, Aramis. I’m grateful as hell for what Louis’s done for Thomas and my parents, but Jesus Christ, I nearly killed a man in his house last night. You think he wants that on his conscience?”

“Why not go the whole hog and call in the police? After all, it’s attempted murder.”

“This isn’t a _joke_ , Aramis.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

Aramis’s brown eyes could be surprisingly uninformative as to his real thoughts at times. “I’ll speak to Treville and then call them, okay?”

“As you wish. But you don’t seem too worried about your victim.”

“What do you want me to do? Apologise? I’m sure that’ll go down well.”

“It’s a start, Athos. It’s something you should do before you go all noble and Sydney Carton on us. It’s the _least_ you can do.”

“Fine. Is he in a fit state to see me?” Athos climbed off the bed and started to strip off his wrinkled clothes from the day before.

“Maybe. Are you in a fit state to talk to him? Because you’re acting angry and self-righteous and if I were d’Artagnan, I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“What do you want me to _do_ , Aramis?”

“Stop. Think. Reflect. Consider those you love you, and those you have wrong, before you salve your pride by running off to Treville to sort out your mess.”

Athos glared at the man. “I’m not.”

“Are too.” Aramis wasn’t budging an inch on this.

Athos sighed. “What did Anne say?”

“That maybe you didn’t know everything you should have about what Thomas had done. Which is not an excuse. If Anne hadn’t stopped you, you would be a murderer right now. D’Artagnan is very badly beaten, very sore, and certain that the only answer is for him to leave, because he’s sure we’ll hate him if he doesn’t.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes. Nearly as ridiculous as you behaving like a spoiled brat over Treville choosing a smart, capable young man to replace your frankly very ordinary brother. Thomas was never as good as d’Artagnan, and never would have been, even without his other proclivities.”

Athos narrowed his eyes in anger. “Nice of you to attack the man now he can’t respond.”

“Yeah, how mean of me. I should have told you to your face while he was around...oh wait, we did but you wouldn’t listen. Like you didn’t listen to Anne. Thomas was never capable of guarding King or Queen on his own, not like any of us are.”

“You’re certainly not capable of watching her on your own.”

Aramis hissed in a breath. “Well, I can see you’re in a conciliatory mood this morning. I’ll send Porthos along. Try not to commit _seppuku_ before he arrives.”

“Aramis, wait. I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong with your abilities. Only...you’re too soft-hearted at times.”

“Not that much. I should lock you in a room with d’Artagnan and let him pound you to death. It’d only be fair.”

Athos slumped onto the bed again. “Tell me what to do, Aramis? My brain is too stupid.”

“Okay. D’Artagnan needs a couple of more hours’ rest. In that time, I suggest you eat, shower, shave, and maybe talk to Anne again, because she’s upset. When you have done all that, wait half an hour and be sure you can contain your emotions. Then, and only then, you and I will go visit the kid, and you will let him say what he wants to say before you spew all over him. How does that sound?”

“More sensible than anything I would have done without you.”

Aramis grinned. “That’s a low bar, though.” Athos held up a middle finger. “I’ll speak to Anne and see if she’s free. She spent the night watching d’Artagnan, so she’s probably tired.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean that to happen.”

“Someone had to sit with him. He really is badly injured.”

“A doctor’s seen him?”

“Yes. Now go do as I said. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Aramis nodded and left. Athos headed for the shower. He stank, and not just morally.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh, thank you, love.” Aramis rolled his shoulders after Porthos lifted his hands from them. “I want a swim but I’m not even half done sorting this out.”

“Want me to take over?”

“Yes. But I can’t ask that. I’m second in command. Damn Athos and his stupid brain.”

“Yeah. I feel bad now, how we treated Anne.”

“God, yes. I mean, sleeping with Thomas was bad, but no one deserves the rest of it. Now I wish I’d made Athos listen to us about him.”

“Wouldn’t have made any difference. They’re family, or they were. He would have kept after her regardless.”

“Maybe.” Aramis’s phone told him he had a text. “Athos is ready to talk to d’Artagnan.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Aramis hesitated. “Yeah, why not. It affects the rest of us, but they need to talk without interference.”

“I’ll just make sure Athos doesn’t start choking the kid again.”

“Please God, let’s not have any of that.”

Anne was still with Athos at his cabin. “I’m going with you,” she said.

“Of course. Athos? Going to behave?”

Athos was slumped in a chair. “I’m not a child, Aramis.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” Porthos said, giving Athos the evil eye. Athos was lucky it hadn’t been Porthos who’d found him choking d’Artagnan.

Athos was still pale, a little red-eyed, and suitably ashamed as they walked to d’Artagnan’s cabin. Anne carried herself proudly, though she too was red-eyed. They were all basket cases, Aramis thought, trapped by bonds of history and affection, doing a job for the obscenely privileged, and trying to live some semblance of a normal life in an abnormal situation.

He went in ahead of the others, to see if d’Artagnan was up to seeing them. “You have visitors,” he told the kid. D’Artagnan looked a little better, but still far from well. Aramis hoped this wouldn’t take too long.

“You mean, you have Athos.” His voice was still raspy and weak.

“Amongst others. Do you want to talk to him? It’s entirely your choice. He’s been warned to behave, and I have Porthos here to back me up.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be with you, and I won’t let him become abusive.”

“You mean, not _again_.”

“ _Touché_.”

He made sure d’Artagnan had water, cold packs on his neck, and had taken ibuprofen before he let Athos enter the bedroom. Athos took the armchair, Anne sat on the bed, Aramis stood in the doorway with Porthos behind him. “No chance of making a run for it, is there?” d’Artagnan said.

Anne moved closer to him and took his hand. “Trust me, it won’t be you making a run for it, Charles. Athos, start talking.”

“D’Artagnan, I apologise for beating you, and for...generally behaving like a shithead. You didn’t lie to me yesterday, you didn’t say anything that wasn’t the complete truth, and your relationship with Anne is none of my damn business. I will do whatever you deem appropriate, whether to resign, go to the police, or whatever you want. Aramis and Porthos won’t hold it against you, whatever you choose. Anne’s already made her position clear to you, I think. I’m sorry. I...hope you’re not suffering too much.”

D’Artagnan looked at Athos. “It hurts. Never been hurt this bad in my life.” Anne put her other hand on d’Artagnan’s, paying no attention to Athos. “I don’t understand why you went off at me. Yeah, I said some hard truths, but how did you not know?”

“I...chose to interpret Anne’s description of events in a way which favoured Thomas, not her.”

“You said you _loved_ her. How could you do that to someone you loved?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Athos said, his voice breaking. “I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me for a brother who betrayed me. For a man who tried to rape my wife. Did rape my wife.” He hung his head. “And now I’ve thrown away my honour, my reputation, for the sake of a few minutes’ revenge for an imaginary insult.” He turned and looked up at Aramis. “I really just want to leave. This isn’t fair to him.”

“You sit right there, Athos,” Anne said before Aramis could. “You said you’d listen, not just talk at him. Charles, you have your say. What do you want him to know?”

D’Artagnan swallowed, and drank some water. “You never gave me a fair chance, even though everyone said you would. You tried to keep me away from people I could make friends with, for your own petty reasons. You’ve done nothing but treat me like a fool and a nuisance. When you were hitting me yesterday, you hated me. I can see your hate on my body. I don’t know if I could ever trust you to have my back, or to give me an equal chance. I don’t trust you to see me as anything but competition for your brother’s reputation. I hate how you treat Anne, and me. And I hate that you expect me to...fix this.” He lay back on the pillows behind him, his eyes closed with tears seeping out from under the lids.

Athos turned to Aramis again. “Can you let me talk to him alone?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Anne snapped.

“You can stay, but Aramis? Porthos? Just be outside?”

Aramis looked at Porthos. His lover nodded. “Okay. We’ll be in the other room.”

**********************

D’Artagnan wished they’d all go away, even Anne, though she was standing up for him. He hated being made to cry in front of other people.

“Athos, give me five minutes with him first,” Anne said. D’Artagnan heard the man step outside, then Anne moved closer and put her arms around d’Artagnan. “Just breathe, Charles.”

She said nothing else, just held him while he cried a bit. “Sorry,” he gasped, wiping his nose, still sobbing. Anne pushed a tissue into his hand so he could blow his nose. It hurt his throat like crazy. “Shit.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault, Charles.”

“I don’t know what to tell him. Or decide. Why can’t he just.... I’m the one who should go.”

“Don’t let him do that to you unless it’s what you want more than anything else.”

“What I wanted to do was to fly. Anything else is just making do.”

“I know, baby. I know.” She kissed his forehead. “But this is a good job, and it could give you the chance to fly again. Maybe qualify to fly the helo. If you want to. You can’t go back. None of us can. Athos talked about throwing our marriage away, but I’m as guilty as he is. I love him, he loves me, but we can’t fix it now. All I have is the job until I can trust myself to love someone else. I won’t let him take that way from me. Don’t let him take away this chance, if you want it.”

D’Artagnan opened his eyes. “Does he deserve a chance too?”

“I thought he did. But not at the expense of your future, your chances.” She touched his face. “This was wrong. He threw away the right to have his wishes considered over yours.”

“But do you want him to stay? If he treats you right?”

“Yes. He’s good at what he does, when he’s not behaving like a twat. I do love him, Charles. But I haven’t liked him since...Thomas.”

“Do you trust him?”

“On the job? Yes. With my heart? Not until yesterday. Now...I’m prepared to let him prove he can be a friend. But this isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. Because of you, he did this to me. So if I stay, it has to make a difference at least to you. I mean, in how he behaves.”

She cocked her head. “How about putting him on probation?”

“Like me?”

“Yes. Officially on notice, with Treville making damn sure he behaves.”

“Will Treville do that?”

“Yes.” D’Artagnan turned his head sharply towards the new speaker. _Fuck, that hurt_. It had been Athos. “Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I heard that. Yes, he would. I’ll leave you to finish talking.”

“No, stay,” d’Artagnan said. “Will you abide by that? Treat Anne and me decently, and with consideration. I’m not talking about sucking up to us, just...quit doing the opposite. And stop trash talking us behind our backs.”

“I don’t,” Athos said, his back stiff.

“You do, mostly by omission.”

“I don’t feel in a position to criticise anyone. You have every right to call the police, and in your position, I would.”

“Good thing I’m a better man than you, then. That’s what I want, Anne. Him to prove he can be trusted. If he puts his back into it, and it doesn’t work, then so be it. If I fail at this job because I’m just not good enough, same thing. But I want the chance to prove myself too.”

“You’ll have it, I swear,” Athos said.

“I believe him,” Anne said. “And the others won’t let him get away with half-arsing it.”

“Who’s going to speak to Treville?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Aramis,” Anne said. “Aramis, then Athos, and then you if he needs to. Is that all right?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes again. “I’m done, sorry.”

She kissed his forehead. “How about you sleep? Do you need a shower or anything?”

“Yeah, but sleep first.”

She helped him lie down. “Someone will check on you in a bit. Athos?” He guessed she was signalling him to fuck off, saving d’Artagnan the effort. “I’ll come by later.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you. Sleep now, Charles.”

**********************

Anne shooed them all outside the cabin. “Aramis? Your place.”

Aramis clearly knew better than to argue with her, so they all trooped over to his and Porthos’s cabin. “I’ll make some coffee,” Porthos said.

Athos sat down. Anne sat next to him, Aramis taking up a seat across from the two of them. “Well?”

“Anne suggested to him that I go on probation for the same period as he is serving out. At the end of it, d’Artagnan will decide if he wants to stay or go, based on whether I’ve proved my trustworthiness to him and to Anne.”

Aramis sat back in his chair. “And...do you agree?”

“Yes, I do. Treville will be asked to enforce it. Anne? Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?”

“Yes. Not just for me, for him, Athos. If we don’t end this now, if we don’t let ourselves heal, repair the damage done to our friends, not only will it be an open sore for us, but you’ll screw over a bright young man whose only crime was to not be Thomas.”

Athos winced. “In the circumstances, I’m glad he’s not. I’m so sorry, Anne.”

“Uh, and so am I,” Aramis said. Athos and Anne looked at him in surprise. “I should have asked more questions about what happened.”

“Yes, you should have. But you have always been decent to me, Aramis,” Anne said. “Porthos too,” she added as Porthos came into the room.

“So what happens now?”

“I’ll talk to Treville,” Aramis said. “He might just sack you, Athos.”

“All I deserve.”

“Oh shut up, Athos,” Anne muttered at him. “For once in your life, understand this isn’t about you.”

“Okay.”

Aramis sighed. “Anne, are you busy today?”

“Lunch with Queen, that’s all. The usual. Other than that, no.”

“Then could you and Porthos keep an eye on the lad? Athos, you keep away from him. He’s still fragile.”

Athos nodded. He hadn’t realised he could feel worse than he had last night, but seeing d’Artagnan cry was like a knife in his heart. “I’ll wait for Treville’s decision.”

“D’Artagnan needs a few days to recover. I’ll ask Treville to keep one of us off duty specifically to look after him for this week. Porthos, perhaps you could come up with a way to keep him in the loop, training him in procedures through briefing, that kind of thing.”

“I’ll help, behind the scenes,” Athos said. “If I’m allowed to stay.”

“Then the mission this week and in the long term is making the team whole again,” Aramis said. “If we succeed, we come out without hate, without resentment between any of us. If we fail, then I don’t think I can do this any more. Not with you, Athos.”

“I understand.” But it hurt, nonetheless. Aramis was very dear to him.

Anne stood. “I’m going back to sit with Charles. I need to leave around twelve thirty to eat with Madame, so one of you can spell me then. Aramis, I leave that to you.”

“I’ll go back to my place and wait,” Athos said. “And someone needs to speak to Constance, keep her informed.”

“I’ll do that,” Anne said.

“Then we’re done,” Aramis said. “I’m calling Treville now.”

**********************

“Athos did _what_?”

Aramis held the phone away from his ear. “Beat up d’Artagnan and tried to kill him,” he repeated.

“And I’m finding out about this now, why, Aramis?”

“Sir, will you let me explain?”

“Come here. I can’t do this over the phone. I need to shout at you properly. Bring Athos too. Is d’Artagnan all right?”

“Yes, sir. Rest and pain relief are all he needs.”

“Thank fuck for that. Half an hour, Aramis.”

Aramis texted Athos and told him to meet at the garage. “Hold the fort for me, love?” he asked Porthos.

“I want danger pay.”

“I’m taking the main explosive with me, don’t worry.”

Athos was making his best effort at appearing penitential. Aramis had a feeling Treville would be unmoved despite Athos’s undoubted sincerity. “Wearing your stab vest?” Aramis asked as he drove over to headquarters.

“I thought about it. Figured a hair shirt was more appropriate.”

Aramis snorted, though it wasn’t particularly funny.

Marguerite showed them both in immediately, and shut the door. “Give me one reason not to sack you and call the police in, Athos.” Treville’s face was red with anger, and he slammed his fist on his desk.

“I can’t. But d’Artagnan has chosen not to.”

“I don’t bloody _care_ what he’s chosen! What in God’s name were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. I beat an innocent man half to death because he insulted my brother, and it turns out he had every reason to because Thomas is a rapist. I’ve said all this to d’Artagnan, by the way.”

“You should have said it to _me_. Aramis, you should have told me last night. What were you thinking?”

“Sir, I had an injured team mate, another in deep distress, and Anne asking me to hold fire until this morning, and we had a chance to talk to both of them. Neither man was in a fit state last night. I kept them apart and supervised. Calling the police in at that point would have been counterproductive.”

“Not your decision to make.”

Aramis shrugged. “Sorry?”

Treville shook his head. “I can’t have it. Athos, you’re a trained bodyguard. You are trained to disable and kill, not just by us, but the army too. How can I tell Louis you’re trustworthy?”

“You can’t, sir.”

Aramis interrupted. “Sir, can you please at least consider what d’Artagnan and Anne both want? For their sakes, not Athos’s?”

Treville sat down, the better to glare at them. “And how does this work? If Athos doesn’t kill someone in six months, he passes?”

“No,” Athos said. “If d’Artagnan and Anne say I’ve passed. Otherwise, kick me out.”

“This is a rotten way to repay the trust the de Bourbons placed in you.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“Aramis? You can make this work?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Fine. Then you’re the new head of the team. Athos, you will lose your salary for the entire six months, and restoration to your position is not at all to be presumed. D’Artagnan can call the police in on you at his discretion, and if I receive even one complaint, one _hint_ , that you’ve been anything but a paragon of kindness to anyone working for Louis and Anne, I will personally toss you into the street. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll get Marguerite to type this up and you will sign it, Aramis will witness it.”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on d’Artagnan for a few days,” Aramis said.

“Porthos and Anne. Anne’s diary is clear until next Monday, and Louis has cancelled everything until then. Athos, get out of my sight.”

“Sir.” He left the office. Aramis remained.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Treville said. “Not as much as I am in him, but....”

“I did what I did for the best reasons, and I stand by that decision. You can put me on probation too, if you like.”

Treville sat down. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“You should have let Athos go last year, sir. This could have been avoided.”

“I don’t throw people away, Aramis. I gave you a second chance too.”

“Yes, and I appreciate it. But Athos might have been happier moving on.”

“Perhaps. Will this work?”

“I’ll die trying, sir. If you’re at the residence, visiting d’Artagnan might be a nice gesture.”

“I will. Now take him back, keep him pitiful. But watch him too. Don’t let him drown himself in drink.”

“We could always impose a ‘no alcohol’ condition on his probation.”

Treville shook his head. “Too mean. But I’ll impose a ‘no intoxication’ clause—how about that?”

Aramis smiled. “Perfect.”

“Go. And...thank you. If this works, I’ll be extremely grateful.”

“We all will be, sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

D’Artagnan felt no great pleasure in Aramis’s report, either in Athos’s punishment or in the arrangements. D’Artagnan was convinced all that would happen would be the team would fall apart, and he’d be blamed for it. He couldn’t fault the way he was treated though, in the days after the attack. Porthos fetched and carried and kept him company cheerfully, and treated him like a friend, while Anne was lovely. She suggested they might want to cool it on the sex front for a while, but made it clear she was still interested. That was fine by him. Aramis and Constance popped in when they could, and Athos stayed well clear, as he damn well should have.

Three days after Aramis’s visit to Treville’s office, Treville himself came around. D’Artagnan felt a lot better, still sore, but no longer dizzy and miserable. That didn’t stop Treville doing a double take when he saw the damage to d’Artagnan’s face. “Dear God. Son, I am so sorry. How are you doing?”

“Better, sir.” At least the man had waited to visit until d’Artagnan felt up to getting dressed in the mornings, and was able to shower without feeling like he was about to pass out. “What can I do for you?”

“Get well, that’s all I want. I know the team have said everything I would have, but I offer you my personal apologies as well. I knew Athos was irrational about a replacement for his brother. I just never dreamed he’d go this far.”

“No one did. It’s okay,” d’Artagnan lied. “I’m not going to go to the police, if you’re worried about that.”

“I’m not. You have every right, and I won’t tolerate any attempt to dissuade you if you want to go to them. Do you understand me? I take this very seriously.”

“Yes, sir,” d’Artagnan said, surprised. “I thought you’d prefer I didn’t.”

“He’s lucky Aramis stepped in and managed things. I’d have had him hauled off that night. But as things have worked out, maybe this is a better way. You still have that choice, don’t let anyone say otherwise.”

“No, sir.”

Treville pulled an envelope from his jacket. “This is by no means an attempt to silence you or change your mind about anything you might wish to do about Athos.” He handed the envelope over. Inside was a cheque for fifteen thousand euros made out to d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan looked at the man in shock. “That is purely a small amount of compensation for your injuries. It’s coming out of Athos’s pay.”

“Sir, I don’t need—”

“Bollocks. You said you were helping your mother out. Send it to her if you don’t need it. It’s not a bribe. If you sue him, it will make no difference and I’m not asking for non-disclosure or anything of the sort. No strings, do you understand?”

“Yes. His pay, sir?”

“Docked for six months while he’s on probation. He won’t starve, d’Artagnan. But in addition to that, Milady tells me that you’re keen to keep up your piloting experience, and so is Louis. I’d like you to spend as much time as you can piloting his jet when you’re not needed on the ground. It’s already been arranged. I’d also like you to qualify as a helicopter pilot, to be Anne’s second. We’ll aim for you to finish that by this time next year, if possible. Do you think you manage all that?”

“Yes, sir! But the cost—”

“Louis won’t even notice it. They’ve decided on Iceland for the first half of August, and you and Milady will be their pilots for that trip. Queen is going to Norway after that, and plans to do a fair bit of helicopter sightseeing. You’ll be going with her and Milady for that.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“It’s not meant as a favour to you, trust me. Now, is there anything I can do for you? Or that you want to talk to me about off the record?”

“No, sir. You’ve been very kind.”

Treville pointed at d’Artagnan’s face. “I wish that was true, d’Artagnan. Now I expect to hear from you, not anyone else, if you have any concerns.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Not at all. You’re going to be busy. Qualifying as a helicopter pilot isn’t easy or quick.”

“I’m looking forward to it, sir.”

Wow. If he could do all that, then even if this job was a bust, he’d have an extra string to his bow. He’d just have to not tell his mother what he was up to.

It took another week and a half before he was presentable enough to go back as a ride along for three days, then Aramis put him on Queen’s detail, along with Anne. What this meant in practice was that the whole team covered the couple, or Queen if she was travelling alone. That happened more often than not because Louis travelled alone only rarely. When he was hypomanic, he wanted to work, and when he was depressed, he couldn’t usually be persuaded to leave the residence. The main need he had for security was to meetings and meals in the greater Parisian area. His executive director, Armand du Plessis, spoke on his behalf most of the time, and Richelieu had his own security.

The last week of June and the first three weeks of July were busy for the team, with Queen on a flurry of speech-giving and fund raising, though the Foundation’s biggest events were held towards the end of the year. They travelled to London, Copenhagen, and Milan, as well as all over France, looking at the Foundation’s projects with refugees, scientists and school children. Queen attracted a lot of press coverage quite intentionally, but d’Artagnan found out up close and personal how that increased the dangers for her. A man with a gun got way too close to her in Rouen, only for Athos and Milady to take him down before the rest of the team realised he was there. A woman exploded a paint bomb near her on Queen’s way in to a hotel in Nice, splattering Porthos and d’Artagnan and sending the crowd screaming for cover. And d’Artagnan wrestled a man to the ground in her London hotel after the guy stole a porter’s uniform and managed to get up to her suite’s hallway before being tackled when d’Artagnan spotted he was acting strange. He’d been carrying two knives and Queen’s photo with her face scratched out.

Then suddenly it was the end of July, and the residence was shut down as the entire household went on holidays, either with the de Bourbons, or to their own families for the worst of the summer heat. Constance had managed to persuade her husband to allow their son to come away for the first two weeks of August, and was bringing him to Iceland with everyone else. Pierre, a curious and clever five-year-old, charmed the pants off everyone, and Queen made a special pet of him. D’Artagnan, piloting the Lear jet with Anne, gave the boy a tour of the cockpit, and patiently listened to a hundred excited questions about flying the plane.

Constance apologised to him later when they arrived at the hotel. “Nah, it’s fine. I was just like that with Dad,” d’Artagnan said, a little wistful as he thought about his father. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a pilot.”

“If Jacques has his way, Pierre will be a lawyer,” she said, making a face.

“Then maybe we have to make sure he doesn’t have his way,” Milady said, coming up behind her.

“Not sure that’ll be possible,” Constance said. Milady had smiled in her enigmatic way, and d’Artagnan wondered if she knew something the rest of them didn’t.

Iceland was considered low risk for the de Bourbons, so their team could reduce the security restrictions in favour of having fun with their bosses. Their first couple of days in the country, Louis was mad keen to go diving at Thingvellir, and d’Artagnan, Anne and Athos, all experienced divers, were invited to go along. Queen preferred to sight see, so Constance, Pierre, and Porthos were to accompany her around Reykjavik. On their first full day Aramis would stay behind to organise accommodation and activities around the rest of the country.

“Treville knew what he was doing, making me team leader,” Aramis complained to d’Artagnan as they sat at dinner with Porthos on the night of their arrival. “So much work.”

“Then you’ll appreciate Athos all the more when you hand the job back to him, won’t you?”

“I already did. You seem to take it for granted he’ll pass his probation.”

“He’s been good so far.”

“Has he? Really?” Aramis had a particularly penetrating gaze when he wanted to.

“Up to now, sure. Why, do you think otherwise?”

“No, no. Just, you know, making sure. You’re okay going diving with him tomorrow?”

“Louis will be right there, Aramis. He’s not going to be a shit in front of the boss.”

“Better not,” Porthos said. “He’s been behaving himself though. Not just to you, everyone. Makes the job easier.”

“Certainly more pleasant, now he and Anne have stopped sniping at each other.” Aramis nodded over to where Athos, Anne, Constance and Pierre were sitting together, having their own supper. “He smiles now.”

“I know. It’s so weird,” Porthos said. “Good weird though.”

D’Artagnan had to wonder why the hell the others had waited until their team leader had pounded a colleague half to death before they did anything about his atrocious attitude, but at least now, they had. Athos had neither sought his company nor carefully avoided d’Artagnan, and their interactions had been polite to friendly on the job. D’Artagnan had found Athos watching him from time to time, but without any overt hostility. D’Artagnan figured it was probably normal for a newbie to be scrutinised, and tried not to read anything more into it.

Beside, d’Artagnan had been doing his own observations, and discovered that Athos, when put to it, could be a decent bloke. Watching him carry a sleepy Pierre off upstairs, d’Artagnan might even say he could be nice.

Maybe that was going a bit far.

Louis was in one of his more stable moods, but that didn’t stop him chattering like a kid at the prospect of diving at the Silfra rift in the Thingvellir National Park. “It’s been on my bucket list like, forever! Charles, you have to take lots of photos.”

“Of course. Your new camera will be perfect for that.”

“Yes, I know! Isn’t it great?”

D’Artagnan had to remind himself sometimes that Louis was actually younger than him and his youthful enthusiasm was just what it looked like. Anne and Athos smirked at the two of them, but d’Artagnan knew they were just as excited, even if they were pretending to be so mature.

Their guide, Tanya, had to help several other divers with their first experience in a dry suit, but the four in the de Bourbon group were all old hands at it. With the water sitting at a comfortable four degrees centigrade, they all made sure their suits were well sealed before entering the water, and however excitable Louis was out of the water, he took safety under water extremely seriously. D’Artagnan was to stick with him to act as his dive buddy, the other behind him.

Flying a fighter jet was the most amazing experience d’Artagnan had ever had, bar none. But diving in water so pure, it was hard to remember it was there, came close. He’d seen photos, talked to people who’d dived it, and yet he was still unprepared for the sheer, surreal beauty. He kept forgetting to take photos, so lost was he in the eerie light, the rocks, the sheer cliffs. When he surfaced and walked ashore, he took off his mask. “That was fucking incredible!”

Louis grinned madly. “Bloody amazing! Charles, did you get photos? Please tell me you took plenty.”

“I think I filled the memory card, actually. I can’t....” He shook his head. “I think Aramis might have better words in Spanish than I can come up with.”

“You mean, ‘Asombroso! Incredible! Sorprendente!’?” Anne said wryly.

“That’ll do for a start. What about you, Athos?” The man was just standing there, staring into space.

“Hush, he’s still in the zone,” Anne said, grinning at her ex.

Athos’s head swivelled to look at Anne and d’Artagnan. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

Louis laughed. “I can always count on Athos for poetry. Again! We have to dive again!”

So they did, after a break and a hot drink, and it was just as incredible the second time. Louis had booked them to dive elsewhere in the park the next day. D’Artagnan would have been happy to spend the entire two weeks doing that.

Meeting the rest of the group back at the hotel, Louis grabbed his wife’s arm. “Anne, you have to come with us next year. You won’t believe what it’s like!”

She patted his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s lovely, darling, but my claustrophobia, remember? I can’t dive. I tried it.”

“Oh. Damn, I forgot. But you have to see the photos right now.” He led her away to the lifts, where she would no doubt have to endure at least an hour of him babbling away about the dive. D’Artagnan could forgive him though. If he had someone to bore with it all, he’d do the same.

Speaking of which...but Pierre was already on Athos’s lap, demanding details, and looking at Athos’s pictures on his camera. Constance shot d’Artagnan a weary look. He recognise the expression from his sisters.

“Hey, Pierre, why don’t you talk to me, while Athos takes Mummy away for a rest.” _And a drink, and some adult conversation_.

“I’m fine, Charles,” Athos said. “You and Constance go do...stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Pierre could be a real handful, and Athos wasn’t that child-friendly.

“Quite sure.”

Constance stood up and held out her hand. “Take me away, d’Artagnan.”

“Okay. I just need a shower. You can wait in my room.”

“Anywhere that doesn’t have a five-year-old is fine by me,” she said as they walked to the lifts.

“Joys of motherhood wearing thin?”

“Joys of motherhood and sightseeing and sore feet are. Don’t be cheeky.”

“Sorry, _madame_.”

After he’d showered and changed, they went up to the square to another bar that let them sit outside in the surprisingly warm Icelandic sunshine. D’Artagnan bought them beers, and Constance drank hers down in almost one swallow. D’Artagnan grinned and ordered another. “Tough day?” he asked.

“Porthos told Anne about [the dick museum](http://phallus.is/en/), so she insisted on seeing it.”

“Oh. Oops?”

“You can say that again. She said it would be educational. D’Artagnan, do you have _any_ idea how many questions a five-year-old can ask you about penises?”

He had to laugh because he hadn’t had to put up with it. Then he realised. “Pierre is totally asking Athos about his dick now, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes. I half expected Porthos to drop trou and show him when he was asked. Anne thought it was hilarious.”

“It kind of is.”

“Jacques is going to burst something when he finds out!”

“Good.”

“D’Artagnan....”

“I can’t help it. If he dropped dead, your life would improve five hundred percent.”

“He’s Pierre’s daddy, and my son loves him. But....” She leaned in closer. “Louis is being told right now that Anne is two months’ pregnant.”

“Really? Wow, that’s wonderful!” D’Artagnan frowned. “How does that affect you?”

“I mentioned to Treville a month or so ago that I was afraid to try and divorce Jacques, and anyway, what would I do with him while I'm at work. Treville spoke to Louis and Louis spoke to Anne, and they’re going to pay for a seriously scary lawyer for me! She told me today.”

“Sounds like the dick museum wasn’t the biggest news today.”

“As far as Pierre is concerned, it is. But the really big news is that Anne’s going to hire a nanny for her baby and if I want, for Pierre. So Pierre can live on site with me when I have custody, and she’ll care for him when we’re travelling. Which won’t be as much with the new baby anyway.”

D’Artagnan pulled her into a hug. “That’s brilliant news, Constance. When’s it all happening?”

“When Pierre and I get back. I’m going to apply formally for custody, and Jacques will have to demonstrate that his using a nanny while he works all hours is somehow better for Pierre than living with me ninety percent of the time. And since we’re been separated more than two years, I can file for divorce immediately without his consent. It’ll take a while, but I’m not scared of him any more.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. Athos has been so supportive.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She frowned. “Did something happen today?”

“What? No. I wasn’t being sarcastic. He was funny, actually.” D’Artagnan told her about the ‘poetry’. “Anne wasn’t surprised at all. He gets like that, she says.”

“I’ve never seen it, but when would I? Such a shame they won’t be getting back together again.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“Anne’s adamant. Says she’s moved on and wants different things from him. But they’re good friends now. Wish it had happen six months ago.”

“Yeah, then he’d have beaten up someone else.”

She put her hand on his wrist. “I didn’t mean that, d’Artagnan. I wish he could have come to an understanding without it, that’s all. I know you still hate him for it, and that’s understandable.”

“I don’t, actually.” And it was true, d’Artagnan realised. “I think I stopped hating him a while ago. He was pretty nice to me after I caught the guy sneaking into Anne’s hotel. Said I handled it like a true pro.”

“Did he? Good for him. And you.” She sighed. “You’re all such lovely people. I wish we hadn’t got into such a tangle over things.”

“Sounds like Thomas caused most of that. Did you like him?”

“He was all right,” she said, less than enthusiastically. “Polite and friendly. Much more talkative than Athos, not as good at his job, Aramis said, which annoyed Thomas. And let’s just say I wasn’t surprised at him going after Anne. I’m sure he did it to spite Athos.”

“Charming. Athos loved him.”

“Oh yes. Which is why the rest of it is killing him. He feels so bloody guilty.”

“He didn’t make his brother into a rapist.”

“Yes, but he feels he should have been able to protect Anne somehow. As if Anne wasn’t capable of protecting herself.”

She shouldn’t have had to, though, d’Artagnan thought. “I know what he means though. Where are you off to tomorrow?”

“Shopping, looking around town. Maybe a cruise on the harbour. You’re diving again?”

“Yeah. It was incredible. You should get your dive certificate. It’s so worth it.”

“Right. I’ll add it to my incredibly short to-do list, d’Artagnan.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love my job and my life. It’s nice to have a holiday from it too.”

After an hour, Constance said she’d better rescue Athos, and take Pierre up to their room for a bath. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

D’Artagnan raised an eyebrow at that. “Um, would that be okay? I mean, with Athos?”

“Of course. You went diving with him today. He’s not going to eat you.”

“Not unless he gets lucky.”

She thwapped him with the table menu. “Behave.”

**********************

“Thank God,” Athos murmured to Anne when he spotted Constance returning with d’Artagnan. “Here, take him,” he said to Constance, pointing at his five-year-old tormentor.

Pierre clung to his arm. “I want to stay, Athos.”

“You can’t. Tell him, Constance.”

“It’s bath time, Pierre.” She picked up her squirming, and now crying son, and held him firmly. “Sorry. I lost track of the time.”

“It’s all right,” Athos said sweetly. “Remind me to murder Porthos when I see him?”

“Absolutely. You and me both. See you for supper. D’Artagnan is joining us.”

She walked off, Pierre doing his best to yell the hotel down with this complaints. “Wasn’t that lovely?” Anne said brightly. “I never knew you knew so much about willies, Athos.”

D’Artagnan grinned at the pair of them. “Dick museum. Sounds...fascinating.”

“Should make Porthos eat every one of them,” Athos muttered. “Er, you want to join us, d’Artagnan? Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, and no thanks, I’ll save it for supper. Constance asked me,” he said, glancing at Athos in clear warning.

“Of course. Anne, do you want another?”

“Just mineral water, thanks.”

Athos signalled the waiter. “Looking forward to tomorrow, d’Artagnan?”

“Yeah, heaps. Anne, is Aramis joining us, do you know?”

“Yes, unless Porthos insists he visits the dick museum for research purposes.” She burst out laughing. “Athos, God, your face when Pierre started asking.”

“It wasn’t fair! Here I was, talking about the dive and what we’d seen, and then he comes out with, ‘Athos, can you show me your penis?’ just as this elderly couple walked past. I’m sure they thought I’m a kiddie fiddler.”

His revelation was rewarded by Anne’s smile and d’Artagnan’s chuckle. Athos very carefully kept his gaze on Anne. What was Constance thinking, inviting d’Artagnan to dinner with them? The kid couldn’t possibly want his company, and d’Artagnan had already spent all day with Anne. Constance was interfering again, he suspected. He couldn’t think of a graceful way out though.

But then d’Artagnan announced, “Madame is pregnant, Constance said. She didn’t say it was a secret but I guess we need to be quiet until Queen announces it.”

Athos stared at d’Artagnan, despite his resolution not to. “She kept that quiet.”

“From _you_ , she kept it quiet. We’ve known for a few days. She just wanted to make sure. She’s due in February. Let’s hope the child doesn’t make an early appearance during the charity ball.” Anne sipped her water and looked smug. “Hope your nappy changing skills are up to date.”

“They’re non-existent and you know it. Does Treville know?”

“Not yet. You’re thinking of the security aspects?”

“It’ll complicate matters, certainly.”

“Not your problem though, is it?” D’Artagnan said. “It’s Aramis’s headache now.”

Athos inhaled sharply, caught off guard. Anne frowned at d’Artagnan. “How tactful of you, Charles.”

“No, he’s quite right,” Athos said. “Though I’m sure Aramis will find a way to make it all ours too.”

“I wasn’t.... Sorry, Athos.”

Athos looked at the kid. “Why? You’re correct. Let it be his headache.”

“He hates being in charge.”

“Yes, I know. It’s not up to me, or him. Or you, for that matter. So don’t worry about it.” Athos looked at his watch. “I better grab a shower and change. I’ll meet you here at quarter to?” Anne nodded. “See you then.”

**********************

Anne twisted her glass. “Well that was awkward.”

“Sorry,” d’Artagnan said. “It just came out.”

“Never mind. I don’t know what Constance was thinking, inviting you to sit with us.”

“I can go with Aramis and Porthos like I did last night.”

“No, leave things as they are. Much as he wants to put this behind him, he can’t expect you to forgive and forget, and neither can Constance.”

“I’m not angry with him any more, though. I mean, if he hits me again, I’ll kill him, but I have no complaints about him so far.”

“It’s only been eight weeks, Charles. Wait until it’s six months. I don’t expect him to hurt you again, but he needs to learn his lesson properly.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t planning to suck his dick or anything.”

She bit her lip in amusement. “If you do, make sure you tell Constance and me so we can watch.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Totally.” She sipped her water. “Today was wonderful though. I haven’t seen him look like that in years.”

“You’re really determined not to get back together with him?”

“No point. We’ve changed too much. This way, I get him as a friend, and if he feels like we have to fuck, then it’s okay. The great passion isn’t there any more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.”

“I guess. Have you ever flown a helicopter in Norway before?”

“No. I’m looking forward to it. I wish it wasn’t too far to take Louis’s but it is. How are you finding the Lear?”

They chatted about the plane until Constance came back with a re-energised Pierre, and Aramis and Porthos joined. D’Artagnan sat back and enjoyed Constance scolding Porthos, while Aramis stroked his moustache and egged the two of them on. Anne rolled her eyes and ventured that putting penises in bottles was the least harmful way to use them.

“Anne!”

“You know I’m right, Constance. Maybe we should work out a way to have them detached and only handed back when they promise to use them sensibly.”

“I’m not walking in front of _her_ while she’s carrying a knife in future,” Porthos said crossing his legs.

“Poor scared little Porthos. You’d never see me coming.”

“That’s true, but what are we talking about?” Athos said, arriving at the table.

“Anne, chopping off our manhoods to put in a jar,” d’Artagnan said.

“Ah. She’s right. But is this something we want to talk about in front of you know who?”

“He’s heard worse today,” Constance said wearily, looking down at her son. “And that was from Queen.”

Since they were all together, it made sense to eat at the same table, which took the pressure off both d’Artagnan and Athos, though Constance had to leave before dessert because Pierre had grown whingey and needed to go to bed. “I’m sorry,” she said as she picked him up. “He’s normally so good.”

“Long day, lots of excitement,” Aramis said. “He’s a good boy.”

“Say goodnight,” Constance said to her son.

“‘Night, Athos. Night, Charles.”

“Huh,” Aramis said as Constance walked off with the boy. “I guess we know who’s top in his affections right now.”

“You didn’t spend an hour diplomatically talking about dicks with him,” Anne said. “The way to a boy’s heart.”

“He didn’t say goodbye to _me_ ,” Porthos said. “And I was with him most of the day.”

“Perhaps Athos has a special talent when it comes to biological explanations,” Aramis said.

Athos scowled at his friends. “You are both enjoying this far too much.”

“Absolutely.” Aramis lifted his glass. “Athos-daddy.”

“Don’t. Not even as a bloody joke.”

“Yes, whatever other mistakes we made together, at least we didn’t _breed_ ,” Anne said.

D’Artagnan held his breath, wondering if Anne had gone too far. But Athos only chuckled and shook his head, and the danger was past.

Half an hour later, Aramis and Porthos excused themselves to go to bed. Anne stood. “I’m off too. See you both tomorrow.”

Athos went to stand. “Uh, can I have a quick word?” D’Artagnan asked.

Athos sat back down. “Of course.”

Anne sent d’Artagnan a quick look, but he smiled back to reassure her. “Later, boys,” she said, walking away.

“Is it about the dive tomorrow?” Athos asked.

“No. It’s about what happened earlier. When I said it was Aramis’s job now. I wasn’t having a go at you, honest.”

“Whether you were or you weren’t is irrelevant. It was a perfectly—”

“Will you shut up and listen?”

“Sorry.”

“What I want to say is, I forgive you.”

Athos lifted his head. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t forgive myself.”

“Are you saying I’m not allowed to be a better man than you?”

Athos stared. “You _are_ a better man. In your place, I’d have shot me for what I did. Certainly gone to the police.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I just didn’t feel like the hassle. Anyway, what you think about what you did is irrelevant. I forgive you. I don’t _forget_ though. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Of course not, d’Artagnan. Thank you.”

“And I want you to stop being scared of me, of me complaining about you, or what I might do. If I’m being a jerk, call me on it. I don’t want special favours.”

“You weren’t being a jerk. You were right. I don’t _resent_ being demoted, d’Artagnan. This whole thing has actually given me two precious gifts—Anne back as a friend, and a chance to assess Aramis in a leadership role. I don’t deserve either, but there you are.”

“He hates it.”

Athos winced. “Yes, he does. Treville appointed him second in command because of his age and length of military service, but it’s Porthos who’s the natural leader. If I ever regain Treville’s trust, then I’ll be making that point to him.”

D’Artagnan didn’t condescend to him by saying that of course Treville trusted him, because it wasn’t true. “Porthos would be good at it.”

“So will you, in time. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No. I just want things to be more normal, instead of waiting for bombs to go off. I don’t believe you’re going to attack me again, so why pretend we think it’s a possibility? You need to go through your process, but I’m not going to interfere with it. Okay?”

He held out his hand. Athos took it. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you in the morning. It’s going to be fantastic.”

“Yes, it is.”

**********************

Athos sat in his room thinking for a long time after he came upstairs. None of it was particularly complimentary to his self-esteem, comparing d’Artagnan’s readiness to move past Athos’s dreadful actions, to Athos’s childish resentment towards Anne. Athos wasn’t a religious man, and he very much doubted d’Artagnan was, so this ability to forgive didn’t come from some forced sense of what was correct or moral. It had to come from d’Artagnan’s willingness to let grudges go for his own self-care and sanity. It was a example Athos found it almost impossible to imitate.

A knock came at his door. He opened it. “Anne. Come in.”

She sat on the bed. “I thought I’d just check that Charles hadn’t torn open any stitches.”

“His or mine?” She looked at Athos but didn’t answer. “He said he forgives me. How can he do that?”

“Because hate is toxic? And tiring? I hope he hasn’t let you off the hook, Athos.”

“No, no. I wasn’t expecting this, though.”

“He’s an exceptional young man. He reminds me of you.”

“Was I ever that impulsive and kind?”

“Yes. Hard to remember but you were. Especially the ‘kind’.”

“I should have learned to forgive too.” He sat next to her on the bed. “I can’t forgive Thomas though. Not that it makes any difference to him.”

“I believe forgiveness requires some act of contrition. I’m not capable of imagining Thomas saying sorry even if he was still able to talk. But I might be biased.”

“You have the right to be. I want to be a good man again, Anne. I used to think I was. That because I believed in honour and duty and obedience, that I was worthy. Now I know that’s not enough.”

“That’s not all you were. You _are_ a good man, Athos. You lost your way, and so did I. We’re still looking for the path.”

“D’Artagnan knows the route.”

“Then we’ll follow him.” She took his hand. “Want me to stay the night? Just to sleep?”

He smiled. “I’d like that very much.”


	7. Chapter 7

That August was a golden time for d’Artagnan, so much so that he could hardly remember how miserable he’d felt in June after his disastrous start in the job. Two weeks in Iceland, with people he called friends, seeing unearthly, astonishing scenery, diving in waters unlike any he’d ever experienced, travelling over glaciers and deserts and volcanoes, going whale watching, had blown his mind. Then the entourage moved to Norway, and that was a whole other adventure, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat next to Anne as she expertly manoeuvred through fjords, along the coastline and among the mountains, and giving Queen the time of her life.

All too soon September arrived with a crash back to reality. Anne’s pregnancy meant a lot of visits to medical professionals, and Louis often insisted on going with her. Since both were well known in Paris and with the political climate there, the risk of someone taking a shot at them was high. Louis was in the process of ramping up his schools program too. Fronting speeches for that was something he couldn’t leave to ‘Richelieu’ because the man, though very capable at overseeing Louis’s company, had the emotional skills of a lizard, and tended to treat children as one might regard an un-housetrained puppy piddling on one’s shoe. Pierre had met him only the once, and had run away screaming, which had endeared neither of them to the other.

The background risk of terrorism in Paris added substantially to the worries over resentful loners and political protesters. Louis had agreed, reluctantly, to wear a bulletproof vest at all times while in public, but Madame refused on the reasonable grounds that the damn things were impossible to wear over a pregnancy bump. Aramis and Athos had both expressed a wish to wrap her in Kevlar and keep her out of sight for the next six months, they were so worried. Milady and Constance had rolled their eyes so hard at this, that Constance actually sprained a muscle in her face.

Queen insisted on carrying out her usual round of activities for the second half of the year. A costume ball at the end of November was the centre piece, the planning for which began a full twelve months before, but there were three dinners, one in London, an invitation to speak to the European Parliament, and a summit meeting in Berlin on poverty and immigration. The only thing that changed was that instead of flying in and out in a day, or overnight, Queen now arrived the day before and left the day after, to give herself time to rest before and after the event. Louis travelled with her more often than usual, which increased the risk of an attack, although it also made things a little easier since they only had to use the one security detail for the pair of them.

So Athos worked with D’Artagnan on pretty much every job. D’Artagnan had long since stopped waiting for one of them to say the wrong thing, or bring up old wounds. Athos was just Athos now, one of the team. If Aramis was counting the days until Athos took back the command, he was the only one. Treville had asked d’Artagnan twice how things were going, and seemed unsurprised to hear all was well. Apart from the change of team leader, the biggest differences now for them all were that Milady spent more time with them, especially Athos, and Constance now had Pierre living with her. Jacques had suddenly caved on resisting the divorce petition and on claiming sole custody, and d’Artagnan had a sneaking suspicion the change of heart had involved a late night visit from Porthos and Treville. Lips were firmly sealed, but Constance’s joy at the result was no secret whatsoever.

Three weeks before the charity ball, d’Artagnan was invited to Treville’s office. “You’ve passed your probation, Charles, and with flying colours. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Not that this means your duties will change. If we thought you were incompetent, you’d have been out before now. However, there is a small pay rise that goes with this, so you have a little extra spending money for Xmas.”

“Thank you. What about Athos?”

Treville pursed his lips. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s suffered enough.”

“I doubt he agrees, but I do. I’ll contact him today and tell him he’s off probation too, if that’s okay with you?”

“It’s fine, sir. Aren’t you glad Aramis handled it this way?”

D’Artagnan had kept his expression innocent, but Treville wasn’t fooled. “You leave the politics to me, d’Artagnan.”

“Yes sir. Sir, Athos is going to refuse to become team leader again. Please don’t let him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s good at it, even when he’s not the team leader.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, d’Artagnan. Anyway, welcome properly to the team. You’ve more than earned your place on it.”

“Thank you.”

He drove back to the residence, happy that the lousy beginning could be laid to rest now. He had another helicopter lesson that afternoon, the perfect way to celebrate his release from probation. He went to the kitchen, hoping for a hot meal on this cold, damp day, and found Athos sitting at a table, staring at his phone. “Hey, Athos.”

Athos looked up and d’Artagnan stopped, shocked at the tears in the man’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Athos rubbed his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice didn’t get that far. He showed d’Artagnan his phone. _Thomas died an hour ago. It was peaceful_

D’Artagnan put his hand on Athos’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He sat down next to Athos.

“I’m not.” He blinked and looked at d’Artagnan. “Congratulations.”

“What?”

“Your probation’s over.”

“Oh yeah. What are you going to do?” D’Artagnan touched the phone.

“I’ll have to see my parents this evening. They don’t know about...you know. I don’t know how I’ll go to his funeral.”

“Would you like me to call Anne here for you?”

“God no. I’ll tell her but not yet. My parents blame her as much as I did.” He wiped his eyes again. “I still have trouble, you know.”

“With what?”

“Reconciling who I thought he was, with what he did. I loved him so much. He was my little brother. The way Pierre pesters us for information? That was Thomas. I was his god when he was five.”

D’Artagnan smiled. “Like me and my youngest sister. She called me ‘Cha’. ‘Cha, why? Why are apples red? What does that say? Cha, Cha!’ She followed me everywhere.”

“That was Thomas. And then he grew up to be...what he was. Where did it go, d’Artagnan?”

“Nowhere. It was pushed down deep by everything else.”

“I can’t ignore what he did. And to me, he died when the car hit him. His body stopped working today, that’s all. I’ve done my mourning.”

D’Artagnan doubted that was completely true, looking at Athos’s face. “That’s okay too. Would you like me to come with you tonight?”

“You? Why would you...?”

“I didn’t know Thomas. I’m not emotionally connected to him. I can stay calm where maybe the others might not be able to. It’s just an idea.”

“I can’t ask that, not of you.”

“Athos, did Treville call you? About your probation.”

“Oh that, yes. What difference does that make?”

“It means it’s over. You did your time for the crime. I’ve forgiven you. Time to move on, okay? But if you don’t want company—”

To d’Artagnan’s surprise, Athos put his hand around d’Artagnan’s wrist. “Please. I do. I can’t do this on my own.”

“Then I will. I have a flying lesson from two to five. Is six too late?”

“That’s perfect. Can you...not say anything? Until I know what my parents want to do.”

“Of course I won’t. I don’t have to be anywhere right now. Do you want me to just sit with you for a bit?”

Athos nodded, staring at the table, tears falling down his cheeks. He probably didn’t even know he was crying, d’Artagnan realised, or that he still had hold of d’Artagnan’s wrist. That was okay. Sometimes touch was all that helped.

**********************

D’Artagnan was ten minutes early when he met Athos at the garage “Do I need to change?” d’Artagnan asked.

Athos looked him over. Jeans, fleece, collared shirt. “No, you’re fine. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

Pathetically grateful and unbearably embarrassed at the same time for the man’s company, Athos drove them to his parents’ house in Drancy. Three hours of hiding in his cabin had brought him calmness, if not peace. He hadn’t visited his parents since before d’Artagnan had started with them. Since before he’d tried to turn the man’s face into pâté, in fact—something that would never not bring him shame to think of. But today was about another kind of shame, one that was both his and Thomas’s.

“I don’t know how to tell Anne,” he murmured as they set off.

“Let Constance do it?”

“Cowardly.”

“Practical. She can talk to you afterwards, right?”

“Yes, though I have no idea what to say. She already told me she wished Thomas had died that night. As do I.”

“Then it sounds like you aren’t that far apart. Unless you’re going to start talking like he was a saint or something, I can’t see how you can hurt her by just talking.”

“No. He wasn’t a saint.” Athos didn’t know the man Thomas had become. He didn’t know how he could lie to his parents about that.

His parents had moved to Drancy after the accident, when Louis de Bourbon had helped them buy a small house to cater for Thomas’s needs. Thomas had never left it, and had never shown any awareness. Athos’s reluctance to visit had been as much about his repugnance at the sight of Thomas being kept alive by machines in defiance of all common sense, as it had about not wanting to talk about his failed marriage with his distressed parents, who had an apparently endless appetite for raging at Anne for what had happened. Even Athos’s anger hadn’t burned that hot for that long, becoming instead a cold stone of sharp resentment in his chest, warping all his relationships and perceptions. Being without that now was like being reborn, and he resented being dragged back to that state, however briefly, by Thomas’s last claim on his duty.

His mother opened the door, and collapsed into his arms, weeping. D’Artagnan waited politely for Athos to manoeuvre them both inside, allowing d’Artagnan to enter. “Mum, this is my colleague, Charles d’Artagnan. He’s come along to offer support.”

“At least you didn’t bring Anne.”

 _As if he would._ “No, Mum. Where’s Dad?”

“Sitting with Thomas.”

 _All day? Jesus._ Athos made his way to the living room which had been given over to Thomas and the paraphernalia which had kept him ‘alive’ for the last eighteen months. The first thing that struck Athos was how quiet the room was now without the respirator. But otherwise, the room was as he remembered it. Thomas lay on the special bed that had been bought for him, his face uncovered. Athos’s father sat at his side, his head bowed.

“Dad?”

His father turned. “Come and sit, Athos.”

Athos didn’t bother introducing d’Artagnan, because his father wouldn’t care. He pulled up a chair and sat next to his father. “What happened?”

“He’d been failing for the last week. I had been about to ask you to come see him, but he didn’t last that long.” His father was dry-eyed, more pragmatic than his mother now at least. “The doctor came and confirmed death. We can go ahead and arrange the funeral. The priest came yesterday and gave him last rites.”

Athos forbore from saying there had been no point. “Have you been in touch with Catherine?”

“Yes. She came over earlier. We thought you would have too.”

“I had work to do, Dad,” he lied. “We should cover his face now, don’t you think?”

“Have you said goodbye?”

“I said goodbye a long time ago.” Athos stood and drew the sheet up over Thomas’s slackened face. There was literally no difference from now and when Athos had seen him last, which only confirmed what he knew—Thomas hadn’t been alive in any realistic sense since the moment the car had struck him. Athos touched his father’s shoulder. “Come and have tea, Dad. You can’t do any more for him.”

His father let him take him outside, only then noticing d’Artagnan at the doorway. “Charles works with me,” Athos explained.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” d’Artagnan said, holding out his hand. His father took it.

“Have you ever lost someone, Charles?”

“My father, two years ago. An aviation accident.”

Athos’s father nodded, then kept walking to the kitchen. Athos’s mother had already made tea for them all. “Charles, please do sit down. Martin, Athos, you too.”

She served them tea and Madeira cake, very English. She had spent fifteen years in London before marrying his father, another expatriate Frenchman, and had brought back to France not only an excellent English accent but also Athos as a foetus. “We were thinking next Friday for the funeral, at Saint-Yves. Are you working, Athos?”

“I’ll have to check.” He had his schedule on his phone but he didn’t feel like confirming it just now. He could easily switch with one of the others if he was on duty. Neither de Bourbon would be out of Paris next week. “Go ahead and arrange it.”

“Aren’t you planning to come?”

“Of course I’ll come.”

His mother put the teapot down. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” She began to sob again. Athos stood and made her sit down, holding her around her shoulders. His father watched tiredly. Nearly two years of grief, worry without hope, had burned away his father’s ability to cry as effectively as Athos’s anger had done to him. More so, perhaps.

His father turned to d’Artagnan. “What do you do with Athos, Charles?”

“Same as him, sir. I’m a bodyguard. Also a pilot from time to time, flying their Lear jet.”

“That must be interesting,” his father said, without any evident interest. He was clearly trying to work out why Athos had brought this stranger along with him. “Athos, we have to contact a funeral director and choose a plan.”

“I can do that tomorrow. Do you have any preference?”

“Something simple,” his father said.

“Are you ashamed of Thomas, Martin?” His mother glared at her husband. “Why does it have to be simple?”

“The cost, Marianne. What difference does it make now, to him?”

That brought on a fresh bout of sobbing. D’Artagnan sent Athos a look of sympathy, while Athos tried to not show his exasperation.

“I’ll pay,” Athos said. “Whatever you want.” His savings were low on account of his six-month-long salary penalty, but he could always take out a loan. No way was he going to ask Louis for help, even if his employer would have paid for everything without blinking. He couldn’t ask him for that now he knew the truth.

Half an hour later, he and d’Artagnan climbed back into the car, having declined an invitation to stay for supper. D’Artagnan drove while Athos had called a funeral home and arranged them to call around in the morning. Now he really would have to tell people. Treville, at the very least.

"Are you all right?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Just tired. I’ve never handled this stuff well. Thank you. It helped.”

“I’m glad. Would you like me to tell Constance, and then she can tell Anne? We could tell her together, maybe.”

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll be around tonight, at my cabin. I’ll have dinner there.”

“Alone.”

“I’m all right, d’Artagnan. I’ve had a long time to get used to this. It’s nothing but a relief now.”

“I understand.”

When they parked the car back at the residence, d’Artagnan put his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

He went to his office and sent an email to Treville, and another to Louis on his parents’ behalf, thanking him for his generous support. He didn’t know whether to invite the man to the funeral, so he sent another email to Treville asking what he thought. Then he closed his laptop, not looking at the other messages—anything urgent would come as a text—and put his head in his hands. Everything about this was just horrible. If it weren’t for his parents, he’d arrange for Thomas’s corpse to be picked up by hearse and disposed of without any input from Athos himself. He felt no more interested in the removal of the body than he would of the rubbish bins at the same address. And if that confirmed he was a monster, then so be it.

A text from Anne. _Love you, am thinking of you_

He exhaled. Not everything about this was horrible then. Anne, d’Artagnan—two most unexpected friends to come out of it. At least, he hoped he could call d’Artagnan a friend. An enemy wouldn’t have come with him this evening.

He walked back to his cabin. Lights were on in Aramis and Porthos’s place. Athos needed to tell them too, but d’Artagnan would probably beat him to it. It was cowardly of him but the thought of talking about this any more today simply exhausted him. Tomorrow was soon enough. It wasn’t as if any of them would mourn for Thomas more than he would.

He had some frozen cooked chicken, which he defrosted, sliced up and ate in a baguette with some mustard. He had fallen out of the habit of drinking—another hidden gift from the mess—but he had to admit the idea of a glass or two of wine was appealing. He refrained out of respect for d’Artagnan’s help this evening. It would be a poor way to repay Treville and the kid both, to take up a bad habit the second he was released from probation.

He heard a knock. Anne, probably. He opened the door. “D’Artagnan?”

“Are you about to go to bed?”

“Not at all. Come in. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yeah, why not.”

So, having just decided not to drink a couple of minutes earlier, Athos found himself opening a good bottle of cabernet sauvignon. “Thank you for telling Anne.”

“You’re welcome. She took it calmly but you probably expected that. I left her with Constance. She’s fine.”

“Yes, she texted me. What can I do for you?”

“Accept this.” D’Artagnan handed an envelope to Athos. “Back in June, Treville gave me a cheque as compensation for my injuries. He said it came from your pay. I don’t want it, Athos. He said to give it to my mother, but she doesn’t need it. Take it, pay for Thomas’s funeral with it. Use it to put an end to all of this so all of you can move on. Please.”

Athos opened the envelope. Inside was d’Artagnan’s personal cheque made out to him. “This is a lot of money, d’Artagnan. Much more than my parents need for this.”

“Then use it to help them transition. Send them on holiday or something. I bet they haven’t been away since the accident.”

“No, they haven’t. But this is yours, not mine.”

“I don’t _want_ it. It’s blood money. I’m fine now. No lasting damage at all, and now I’m qualifying for a helicopter license which is worth much more to me. Take it. Don’t make me beg, Athos.”

Athos took the cheque and put it on the sideboard. “All right. But I don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘thank you’?”

“Then, thank you.”

D’Artagnan smiled. “You mentioned wine? Because I could do with a drink.”

Athos poured them a glass each, and motioned him to the armchair to sit. “You know I’m not worth all this generosity. Thomas certainly isn’t.”

“I disagree. Not about him, because I didn’t know him. But you are. Mind you, I wouldn’t have said that in June.”

“I’m amazed you’re saying it now.”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “I’ve had six months to observe you. I’ve watched you with Anne, with Constance, with her boy. With me, with Madame and Louis. And I trust Aramis and Porthos, who would walk through fire for you. Even if I didn’t think I could make an assessment, all these people love and trust you with their safety, their jobs, their friendship. Unless you’re going to tell me that every one of them is delusional and you’re just that clever that you can deceive them, I’d say the weight of evidence is against you.

“They liked Thomas.”

“Not like they like you. None of them trusted him close to the way they trusted you. Constance even said it didn’t surprise her that he went after Anne. Not one of them have ever said anything like that about you, even they were furious with you.” D’Artagnan grinned. “Sorry, mate. You won’t change my mind.”

“Then I’ll stop trying.”

“Do you want me to come with you tomorrow? To meet the funeral director? I have experience of dealing with them. I can help you cut through the bullshit.”

“That would be wonderful, but you’ve done—” D’Artagnan held up a hand, then made a ‘zip it’ gesture. “Okay. It would be wonderful, thank you. I’m afraid Mum is going to be stupid about this.”

D’Artagnan nodded. “That’s how they make their money. They’ll go for cremation, yeah? So you don’t need a ridiculous coffin, especially if you’re not going with an open one.”

“I think everyone who wants to look at his corpse has already done so. God, Catherine will want an opinion. I can’t deal with her.”

“Who’s Catherine?”

“His fiancée. She’s not entirely stable. The accident sent her over the edge. If I involve her, the funeral will be at Notre Dame with all the cardinals.”

“Make the plans and stay firm, get it over and done with fast.”

“I’m sorry, this must be painful for you. I mean, after your father’s death.”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “It’s okay. Dad died doing what he loved, and I cried for him. I resented that Mum guilted me into leaving the air force, but I’m over that too. This is nothing like what happened to him. Dealing with the details is going to suck for you, and the least I can do is help from my experience.”

“How are the helicopter lessons going?”

“Still on the simulator for now. I’m loving it. Can’t wait to take the real thing out. Anne says it’s better than sex.”

“She would know.”

d’Artagnan grinned. “Oh yeah. I feel that about jets so I hope she’s right.”

“Louis let me drive his Ferrari around a test track once. I thought I’d found religion.”

“There is a god and he goes at Mach 1?”

Athos laughed. “Yes, he does.”

They finished the bottle of wine, but continued to chat until d’Artagnan looked at his watch. “Bugger, it’s nearly midnight. You have that appointment at ten. Meet you at nine-thirty?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

D’Artagnan stood. “Will you sleep?”

“Like a log, I imagine. I’m okay.” Athos stood and walked d’Artagnan to the door. To his surprise, d’Artagnan pulled him into a hug and held him tight. It was...lovely.

“See you in the morning. It gets better, Athos.”

 _It already has._ Athos watched d’Artagnan all the way to his own cabin, then closed the door.

_There may not be a god, but there is an angel, and his name is Charles d’Artagnan._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, criticisms, corrections and of course, kudos, are craved :)


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